The Brightest Star
by Roses and Lavender
Summary: Sequel to 'As Black As Night'. One night can change a life. One night can change the world. One night can change everything. Forever. But as long as the stars are in the heavens, the House of Black can weather any hell. Rated M.
1. Prologue

**I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from this story. Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**This story will be the Harry Potter series told from the perspective of the House of Black (and Malfoy). However, it is also a story of personal growth and development. The over-riding arc of the story will be challenging of the members' prejudices and faults. The story is, nevertheless, rated M. It is not aimed at younger readers, and please do respect this.**

**Additionally, this is the follow-on from my previous story 'As Black As Night'. I recommend that you read that story first, in order to better follow this one.**

**Either way, I hope you enjoy the story... **

Prologue

_Sirius_

Of course they were waiting for him.

He should have known.

They would take him, and Kiss him, and this would be the closest to freedom her ever got. He never got to be a father to Harry, or Annie. This was the only way they would ever know him. This was the only way they ever remembered him. A haggard man. A broken man. A man in chains, led away to his fate.

He closed his eyes.

At least he could remember them.

...

_Narcissa_

The dark figures were illuminated against the moonlight and the bright sparks of wand fire. Together, they cast distorted shadows, flashes of movement, which she watched from the safety of the tower. She could hear the cries and the screams, and while she wished to turn her head away, to close her eyes, and force herself back into peace and ignorance, she could not.

She heard the roar of the beast.

The scream of the child.

The sobs of those in her tower with her.

But she had not the eyes for them.

She had only eyes for him.

And she prayed for the Gods to bring him back at the end of the night. She did not care what happened. She did not care what he did. She only wanted him.

...

_Cassiopeia_

She watched as the rat-like filth struck her Heir, watched as she was flung back, watched as she hit the ground with a thud. She looked like a rag doll the poor children used to play with.

She watched as she opened her eyes.

Watched as she blinked.

Watched as the realisation struck her.

And watched, powerless, as the beast advanced.

Watched, as her limbs wouldn't move, her wand wouldn't raise, her mouth wouldn't open, her heart wouldn't beat.

Watched as her child opened her mouth to scream.

Watched, and watched and watched.

And saw more than she saw.

Dorea.

Polaris.

Again.

Again she failed.

Again she looked on at her failure.

...

_Lucius_

He stood at the front rank of the defence, next to the Minister. His wand was raised. The perfect duelling position. The perfect face of a caring, fearful uncle. An uncle here to protect his beloved niece from the raving Black.

Had he not been a better actor, he would have sneered.

But this was what he did.

He was in an actor in a play, a mockery of a play, a mockery of a play which was his life.

Although, at the very least, it seemed as though things were about to get interesting.

Pettigrew was escaping.

As long as the rat did not go back to their former Lord...

...

_Tonks_

"RELEGANT LUPUS!"

She heart lurched as she struck Remus, knowing the pain she caused him.

But the pain would be worse if he bit the child.

She shuddered.

She shuddered again as he howled, and limped, and almost went down. Then he turned and fled into the depths of the forest. As he ran, his legs buckled, and he whimpered like an injured dog.

And then she turned.

And saw Pettigrew flee as well.

Not if she could help it.

...

_Caroline_

"NO!"

She watched it happen in slow motion.

The hand struck the jaw.

The head twisted to the side – too far.

The small body rose up.

And fell.

And hit the ground.

And didn't move.

And already she was running, through the crowd, past the Aurors, through the spells she didn't know, and the whole world seemed to stop as well.

She clutched the body.

Stroked the head.

And felt the blood.

_No._

...

That summer night, everything changed for the House of Black. The assumptions upon which it had stood, and built its power, changed irrevocably. The stars which had guided them for so long seemed to dim, and seemed to turn their backs.

The House of Black was alone.

And the ties of family, which had been so strong for a thousand years, were crumbling to dust. The ties of blood can only hold when the heart beats to make them so, to make them strong. A heart can beat with hate, as much as anything else.

Because family may always come first, but one can choose one's family.

And families are built on love, as well as blood.

And one can choose who to love.

So, this is the story of the House of Black.

This is a story of lies.

...


	2. Everything Has Changed

**I do not own Harry Potter, and I do not make any money from this story. Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**This story will be the Harry Potter series told from the perspective of the House of Black (and Malfoy). However, it is also a story of personal growth and development. The over-riding arc of the story will be challenging of the members' prejudices and faults. The story is, nevertheless, rated M. It is not aimed at younger readers, and please do respect this.**

**Additionally, this is the follow-on from my previous story 'As Black As Night'. I recommend that you read that story first, in order to better follow this one.**

**Either way, I hope you enjoy the story... **

Chapter One_ ~ Everything Has Changed_

The summer light streamed through the sunroom windows of Black Rose House. The thin, gauzy curtains caught the light and cast a rosy hue in their shadows. The large room, which ran along the length of the southern wing of the house, was filled with various white-washed tables and chairs for taking tea, and low, cushion-laden reclining sofas for relaxing and taking-in the warm weather days.

The room was light, the air was crisp and the day was new.

The sunroom looked out onto the vast grounds of the estate, with the rolling hills and forests of the northern landscape, a lake and boathouse in the distance, the rose garden to one side which served the floral needs of the house year-round. To the side, the croquet and cricket grounds had been set up for the enjoyment of the various inhabitants and their guests.

A comparatively young man lay on his back, his eyes closed against the and his lips pulled up into a smile. His hands were folded onto his lap, holding a discarded novel in place.

Sirius Black had been released from St. Mungos three days ago.

Since then, he had spent most of his days in the sun room, with the windows flung open, basking in the sunlight and the freedom and the fresh air.

He was often alone, and he knew full well why. But for the first time in decades, he had peace and silence and hope, and he would cling to that for at least a week before he faced the reality of his precarious situation. It was selfish, he knew, and more than a little childish, but he also knew, and the Healers had told him, that he should not run headlong back into his life.

He had been gone over a decade.

And the world have moved on without him.

He had to catch up.

And he had to rest.

He took a deep breath and felt his chest rise and fall.

The motion calmed him. He had not felt calm in years, only tense and stressed and fearful.

Still, something of his past self must have remained, because it had not taken him long to become bored with St. Mungos, and he had only been there a week. He had always hated hospitals. He had spent the week spent in a private room on the Spell-Damage Ward. There was no specialist treatment for prolonged exposure to Dementors, so that was the closest he could get. He had spent a week speaking to Mind Healers, who were astounded by his lucidity.

He knew he was sane, of course, or as sane as he could be. He also knew he had changed. He knew the pattern of his thoughts had changed, but he also knew that ever since he had escaped he was gaining his complexity again. He could think beyond his innocence, the need to kill the rat, and the need to save Annie and Harry. Or, at least, he was trying to. The nutrient potions and good food and rest at St. Mungos had also helped with this. He had spent most of the week sleeping and eating. He had had few visitors. Annie had been brought by Caroline, and had politely and formally asked after his health. He supposed it was awkward for both of them, and it did not help to have an audience.

The week had been frustrating, as there had been nobody to tell him what was going on, and where Annie and Harry were. He knew they were with their extended families, but he wanted to know they were well. And Remus had not visited, though he knew he was only allowed to see close family. He was supposed to be resting. But still.

Still, he was out now, and free. Free forever, thank Godric.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and sat up. He swung his legs over the sofa and stretched. Standing, he ran his hands along the rose-patterned and lace-trimmed cushions. He had thought he would never see such things again. He walked up and down the conservatory, stretching his weakened legs. Looking out over the grounds, he made plans for his freedom. They had the summer ahead of them, and he could take Annie out on the boats, or perhaps for a walk in the woods. He wondered if she were fond of flying, or if he could perhaps introduce her to it. Perhaps she didn't think it was ladylike enough for her? Well, if that were so, he could take her shopping. Young society witches always liked that, didn't they?

Harry would like flying, of course. They could go to a Quidditch match, the season was still going after all. He wondered which team he supported? James had always followed the Appleby Arrows, was Harry the same?

He looked directly at the sun and blinked, shielding his eyes. He knew it was foolish, but he had once thought that he would never see it again either.

He took another turn around the sunroom.

This house had all the luxury of his own childhood, and none of the darkness.

Black Rose House was the opposite of Grimmauld Place in that respect. It was – comparatively speaking in relation to some of the other Black properties – a rather small country estate. Something you might imagine a country Squire living in. It was compact and redbrick, with whitewashed window frames. There were rose bushes lining the approach to the house. There was a lightness and a freedom about the whole place. It was filled with flowers, and the rooms were painted in creams and pastel pinks. He wondered who decorated it, and imagined it to be the mother-like Caroline. Of course, it was far larger than the family would really need, but even the abandoned sitting and drawing and guest rooms were light and aired. The rooms the family actually used were surprisingly informal, as though people used them and lived in them and enjoyed them. They had an air of country gentility and wealth, but none of the over-done regal imposition he had been used to when he had last lived within the walls of the House of Black.

It made him smile, to know that Annie had not had a childhood like his own. Or at least, not exactly like his own.

And for all his bitterness, he knew that Aunt Cassiopeia had nothing on his mother Walburga and Grandmother Irma. He wondered what had happened to them. He would have to find out what had happened to all of them.

He wondered then, if this was the house Annie had grown up in. It was not the mansion in which Cassiopeia had always made her abode, and he wondered how she had come to be here. And he could not imagine Marius living in a magical house with his wife, at least not before he took in Annie. He'd been cast off, hadn't he? So had she lived somewhere different before?

He'd have to talk to Dumbledore or someone and get the whole story. He ran a thin hand through his freshly cut and clean hair. He was piecing his life back together. He just hoped he would use good glue to do it.

He heard the clicking of heels and turned quickly, on edge, his hand reaching for a wand he didn't have, when Cassiopeia walked into the room.

"I thought we ought to talk."

He sighed, restraining himself from flinching back, "I thought I might have another day?" It was strange to hear his own voice – a voice he almost remembered – rich and deep, if a little tired and strained.

"You are, technically, the Head of this House."

"I still have to be cleared for a wand."

"Yes, well, if you shut up, sit down, and prove to me that the Dementors haven't made you completely useless, I'll turn my back when you look at the family collection."

He tried not to laugh and sat down at the nearest table. She sat opposite him.

"Shall I send for some tea, Sirius?"

"Since when did you become so civilised?" He'd snapped out the words before he'd even realised he was thinking them. He took deep breaths. Taking deep breaths calmed him. He wasn't in Azkaban. He didn't need to snap. He needed to breathe. In and Out. In and Out. Like before, in the sunlight.

"Since when did you lose the manners I taught you?"

"Azkaban?" Contempt laced his words.

Breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out. Not in Azkaban. Not in Azkaban. Not there. Free. Peace. Freedom and peace and Harry and Annie and he could be human for them.

"Oh, you lost them long before then, when you turned your back on our family. Now do you want the tea, or do you want to abandon all pretence? Personally, I am perfectly open to trying to create a working relationship within our family. However, if you want to go back to trying to tear us apart and running off in the night, then be my guest. Maia won't follow you."

"Her name's Annie." His words had bite.

"Try telling her that, and see what response you get."

_Breathe, just breathe. Remember the sunlight. Remember the freedom._ His head was pounding, and his shoulders tense. He closed his eyes and took one, long steadying breathe. He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Please don't raise your voice. It still hurts."

She tilted her head, "Trixie."

There was a small 'pop' and the Elf bowed low.

"Could we have a tray of tea and biscuits? Camomile and honey for Sirius, if you please. He is still getting headaches."

"Yes, Mistress Cassiopeia."

After the Elf vanished, the food and drink appeared almost instantly.

"Thank you." He said to her, reaching to the tea. "And I'm... sorry."

She sniffed, "It is of no importance, shall we proceed?"

"Please, be my guest."

"I think you'll find I am." Her tone was dry.

He grinned, showing newly re-whitened teeth. "I bet that pleases you."

She sighed and leant back in her chair, "I am old enough to know that that is the least of my – of our – problems. It is at Caroline's instance that you have had your few days of peace. It is my memory of a wilful boy which made me acquiesce. It cannot continue. I can only hope that you are a man now, and ready for a man's problems."

He frowned, and she waved her wand. A stack of newspapers appeared on the table. He picked through the headlines:

_**SIRIUS BLACK: INNOCENT OF ALL CHARGES**_

_**PETER PETTIGREW: BACK FROM THE DEAD, AND BACKING YOU-KNOW-WHO?**_

_**HEROINE AUROR SAVES BLACK HEIR FROM DARK WEREWOLF**_

_**DEATH EATER AND WEREWOLF HOLD SCHOOL CHILDREN HOSTAGE, BOY-WHO-LIVED AND BLACK HEIR AMONG THEM.**_

_**REMUS LUPIN: A WOLF IN TEACHER'S ROBES?**_

_**MINISTRY URGES CAUTION: WEREWOLF AND PETTIGREW REMAIN AT LARGE**_

_**WEREWOLF IN LEAGUE WITH YOU-KNOW-WHO FACILITATES ESCAPE OF WANTED MURDERER PETER PETTIGREW**_

_**DEATH EATER PETTIGREW HAD WEREWOLF ACCOMPLICE ALL ALONG**_

_**REMUS LUPIN, PETER PETTIGREW AND THE MURDER OF THE POTTERS**_

...


	3. In Godric's Name

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Two_ ~ In Godric's Name_

Tonks fiddled with her engagement ring – now hidden on a chain beneath her robes, though she was not ashamed – as she eyed the map on the board. As the 'heroine' who had saved the Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black from the 'Death Eater allied werewolf', she had been placed within the team charged with hunting said werewolf down. She didn't doubt for a second that had she been qualified, which wouldn't happen until November, she would have been in charge of the investigation.

After all, they'd even offered her an Order of Merlin, Third Class, which she then had to accept for the sake of keeping up appearances. It had left a bitter taste in her mouth, of course, but still, she _had_ saved Maia, so at least half of it wasn't a lie. And she had _tried_ to turn it down.

And who else could say they'd got an Order of Merlin before they had even passed out of training?

And Cassiopeia had _made _her accept it. Honestly. And who ever defied Cassiopeia Black?

So, it had worked out rather well, sort of. Well, for her, at least. It definitely hadn't worked out well for Remus.

At least she could feed the team false information under the guise of 'sudden and innate insight' to direct them as far away from London as possible in their hunt for him. Unsurprisingly – but rather frighteningly – they all jumped on her suggestions. Yes, she had been rather foolishly brave in putting herself between Remus and Maia. No, that did not give her any special ability to sense his current location.

It really was ridiculous that he was being blamed at all, but the Ministry had to blame _someone_ for letting Pettigrew get away whilst a contingent of Aurors, a battalion of Dementors and the Minister of Magic and Albus Dumbledore themselves looked on.

It was a particularly shameful scandal as the strongest resistance came from a rag-tag group of Hogwart's third years, one of whom was still recovering in St. Mungos.

It was almost two weeks later now, and the Howlers still hadn't let up.

Of course, it didn't speak much for due process or justice, but Remus was an unfortunately convenient target. She sighed. At least they (and by they, she meant the House of Black) were working on a grand plan to clear his name, although Cassiopeia was being extremely unhelpful in that respect.

Tonks _had_ thought that Cassiopeia was being kind when she provided Remus with one of the heavily warded Black properties as a safe house, although now that Tonks had seen it, she was more inclined to think that Cassiopeia was just being vindictive.

Still, she and Remus were working on making it habitable.

And when it was habitable, they could start making it nice.

...

Maia walked ahead of her mother, listening to the clacking of her heels and greatly enjoying the sound and sense of grown-up superiority it gave her.

And, more importantly, she was happy because Hermione was _finally_ allowed to have visitors, and Maia been desperate to see her ever since she'd woken up in the Hospital Wing herself. She paused for a moment, checked her bearings, and took the next left. She was getting to know her way around St. Mungos rather well, although she didn't particularly want to think about that. Mother had taken her to visit Mr. Black a few times, but she didn't quite know what to say to him. Now that he was living with them, she put a considerable amount of effort into avoiding him at all costs.

While she knew that she wasn't supposed to hate him, or be afraid of him, anymore, she could still the lingering traces of those feelings, even in spite of herself. It wasn't outright resentment, rather a sense of wariness.

And how on earth _was_ one supposed to treat one's long-last father who'd been imprisoned for over a decade and who'd been on the run – supposedly after one's own blood – for almost a year and who then, quite unexpectedly, turned out to be completely innocent? And that was without throwing into the equation that she had grown up believing that an entirely different man, who she loved and respected deeply, was her birth father! And that was really just the_ beginning_ of the whole situation!

She sighed, and took the next left, glancing back to make sure that her mother was keeping up. She and mother had spoken, at length, about Mr. Black. They had decided that Maia should try and get to know him, and be polite to him, and simply let time tell what sort of relationship would form, and how they would view each other. To try and force any sort of specific arrangement would only create something forced and un-natural.

Of course, they had yet to discuss this with the man in question.

Finally, she turned that last corner and rapped smartly on Hermione's door. Whatever Hermione's parents did in the muggle world – she would have to ask – it seemed to pay rather well. They had managed to pay for a particularly nice private room – not as nice as the one they had given Mr. Black, but nice enough – with a window charmed to provide whatever view was desired. It seemed that today Hermione was in the mood for Paris.

"I love Paris." She said, slipping into the room and arranging her dark blue dress smartly as she sat down on the visiting chair.

"So do I, we went up the Eiffel Tower for my eighth birthday."

Maia smiled, "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"So am I, though if I disliked Pettigrew before, I really hate him now." Said Hermione, grimacing, "I still have to take five different potions every three hours."

Maia patted hand sympathetically, "Have Potter and Weasley come to visit you yet?"

Hermione sighed, "I know that Ron's coming in later, but I'm not sure when Harry will come."

They were interrupted when Caroline entered, "Don't mind me." She said, sitting down on the sofa by the window and admiring the view.

Maia frowned, "Why wouldn't Potter visit you today? Surely he wants to know how you are?"

Hermione twisted the duvet cover on the bed, "His aunt and uncle... well, they probably won't be able to bring him. They're muggles... I expect he'll come later in the holidays, when he gets to go to the Weasleys, although hopefully I'll have been released by then."

Maia glanced quickly at her mother, saw the frown which momentarily formed on her face before it vanished, and schooled her own features.

"Does he always spend the holidays with the Weasleys then?"

"Yes, well, he and Ron are rather close." Hermione paused, "And, like I said, his aunt and uncle are muggles. They wouldn't want to come here."

"But surely they could simply leave Potter at the door, if it made them so uncomfortable. But that's preposterous anyway – their nephew's a wizard. They must have been used to magic by now. Your parents are – evidently – as is my mother."

Hermione shrugged, and twisted the duvet harder, "I really couldn't say."

Maia cocked an eyebrow, "You are more than capable of saying anything."

"They just don't like mixing with different people."

"So they're unsociable?"

"Yes, though I really shouldn't comment. I've never properly met them... Anyway, the Healers said that I should be out in the next three weeks. Just in time for the Quidditch World Cup. They say that as though I ought to be excited." Hermione finished quickly, looking a little frazzled.

Maia saw her need to change the topic and inclined her head. Potter's relatives were not her business. "England _are_ hosting it. Couldn't you at least make a show of patriotism?"

Hermione screwed up her nose, "But we aren't _playing_!"

Maia shrugged, "We've all got tickets to sit in the Minister's box – I think he's trying to make nice after the whole imprisoning our Head of House without trial fiasco – and Draco's family will be joining us as well. Uncle Lucius recently made a sizeable donation to St. Mungos, you see."

Hermione frowned, "When you wrote that you also had tickets to the Minister's box as well, I didn't realise that you meant the Malfoys would be there too."

"Well, it was a slightly last-minute invitation all round, but I'm sure it will be fine."

"Really?" Hermione's tone was sceptical, and Maia grimaced.

Caroline turned to them and smiled serenely, "It will all be fine, girls. Don't worry about that."

The two girls shared a look when Caroline turned away. Maia shrugged.

"Well, until then, I brought you some books from our library I thought you might like."

Hermione couldn't keep the brightness out of her eyes when Maia produced a stack of books two feet high.

...

Sirius eyed the wands speculatively. Knowing that he had never seen eye-to-eye with the vast majority of his relatives, he highly doubted that any of their wands would be responsive to him.

Still, any wand would be better than none.

Though a wand wasn't a great consolation at that particular moment in time, not given the state of his House, the position of his friend, the freedom of Pettigrew and his relationship – or lack thereof – with Annie.

He sighed.

Still, Cassiopeia's stipulations, suggestions and thinly-veiled threats had not been _so_ bad. And he did owe her for looking after Annie all these years, and when he reminded himself of that, he found it far easier to accommodate her. He picked up the wand which had belong to Alphard and found that it hummed lightly to his touch. A few simple spells later and he decided that it would be serviceable. It was a shame they'd snapped his old wand, but such was the law.

Now to deal with everything else.

...

Remus Lupin paced up and down the study, the filthy dust-laden study. His body was tense, his muscles aching for release, his whole sense-of self was screaming for it. He snatched up and ugly vase and hurled it at the opposite wall. He took a perverse amount of joy in watching it break into a thousand tiny shards, before it set off the portrait.

_Filthy half breed, filthy animal, besmirching the house of my fathers!_

He let out a roar and picked up another and another, watching them smash and crack and crumble.

He sunk to the floor buried his head in his hands.

How, in Godric's name, had it ended up like this?

...


	4. The Ties of Love and Blood

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Three_ ~ Ties of Love and Blood_

Tonks stepped wearily through the Floo. It had been a long day at work – although the days felt increasingly long of late. She had not seen Senior Auror Moody, but she did not need to see him in order to hear him. She could well imagine what he would say.

_Think with your gut, not just your head._

_You're here to do what's right, not what they tell you._

_I thought you were better than this._

But Helga help her, she was trying! But the world was not quite as black and white for her, as it was for Moody. If she gave everything up, on principle, just as an example, she and Remus would either be destitute or living off Cassiopeia's money.

Neither of which were particularly attractive prospects, to say the least.

She shook herself and looked around, wanting to see Remus. She went through it for him, after all. "Remus?... I'm home." She smiled to herself. She had missed him.

The only answer she got was the screeching of her Aunt Walburga, denouncing her existence as a stain upon the purity of the Black bloodline. Tonks rolled her eyes – past the point of caring – and made her way through the house.

She found Remus on the floor of the study with his head in his hands.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. "It'll be alright."

He tried to pull away.

"We could make a game out of it. We have to do something. Give me whatever outlandish and unlikely place you can think of, and I'll persuade them you're there."

He pulled away, this time to laugh at her. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. I think I'd lose it occasionally too if I were stuck in here with Aunt Walburga for company all day."

"Don't forget Kreacher." She could see it in his eyes – could see that he was trying.

"And Kreacher." She said, nodding in deference to the Elf.

He shook his head, "Colorado."

"Pardon?"

"Tell them I'm in Colorado, playing at being a cowboy."

She smiled, "It's good to have you back."

"I'm trying."

"I know." She kissed him lightly, "But now that you're a house-almost-husband, why wasn't my dinner on the table when I came through the Floo?"

...

Sirius sat back in the chair, pointing the wand at various objects in the room and watching them rise and fall.

Remus was being hunted as a Death Eater, as an accomplice of Pettigrew. Cassiopeia had hidden him at Grimmauld Place.

Pettigrew had also escaped.

The bushy-haired one, the muggleborn, was still in St. Mungos after Pettigrew had cursed her.

For some reason, Harry was living with the Dursleys and, from what he had seen, was not being taken care of. He had to do something about that.

He also had to get the one with the broken leg a new pet.

Annie was fine. He sighed. At least Annie was fine. She was at St. Mungos, visiting her friend. He had to find a way to talk to her properly, to get to know her.

He had to find out about Marius and Caroline. What were they like? What sort of people were they?

He also had to take over the running of the House, at least nominally. Cassiopeia had been particularly coy on that head. He doubted she would relinquish control.

He jumped up, clutching his wand tightly, braced for attack, when he heard a door slam. He turned to the entrance and felt his hand drop to his side. The muggle – Caroline – was there, her hand resting _protectively_ on Annie's shoulder. She tugged the girl back behind her. "Excuse us. There was a gust of wind and the door slammed as we came in." Caroline tilted her head, "Are you alright?" Her gaze rested on the wand. She tugged Annie again, pushing her further back out of view.

He placed the wand on the coffee table and nodded, "I'm fine." He paused, "Thank you." He sat back down.

Caroline inclined her head and entered the room, sitting on one of the low sofas. "Would you like to take tea with us?"

He shook his head, "I've already had tea."

"But you'll stay?"

"Of course." He looked around the room, fighting the urge to retreat into one of the further corners. That wouldn't do.

Caroline turned to her daughter, "Maia, will you be joining us?"

Maia looked carefully at Sirius, "I thought, mother, that I might visit Aunt Narcissa this afternoon. I have not called on her yet this holiday."

Caroline smiled thinly, "Of course, darling, go ahead. Make sure you give her my regards."

"Yes mother."

Sirius blinked at her retreating form – the perfect Slytherin, the perfect society witch. He'd fought against those ridiculous, uncomfortable clothes. Chaffed against the stiff formalities of life and language. And her name was _Annie_.

_Annie_ for his then-dead sister-in law.

_Lily _for her now-dead Godmother.

Named for people he had loved, and lost.

Named for people who had lived and hoped and died for a better world than _this_.

Where Pettigrew was free.

And Moony was hiding.

And Prongs and Lily and Marlene were dead.

Caroline turned her smile back to him, "Are you quite sure I can't tempt you with the tea? It's the Black family blend, I'm sure you must have missed it."

"I haven't drunk it since I was sixteen, and I never cared for it anyway."

She nodded stiffly and sniffed, "I'm sorry, I was remiss."

"It doesn't matter, it was a long time ago."

Caroline nodded again, her gaze shifting around the room.

Sirius forced himself to sit up a little straighter, "You changed her name?"

Her jaw clenched imperceptibly, "Yes. We _were_ trying to hide her identity."

"And you followed the Black conventions?"

"It was Marius' choice. He wanted her to fit in, and he wanted to follow the traditions of his family."

"A family that disowned him?"

"He had Cassiopeia reconciled in their later years."

"Convenient – after she found out about _Annie_, I presume?"

She put down her teacup, "Conveniently, yes. But I am under no illusions with regards to Cassiopeia." She sat a little straighter. "Her original motives were decidedly unpleasant. She saw that _Maia_ had, accidently, cast a Burning Hex on some muggle boys-"

"-she did what!"

_This was it, what he'd feared, the coldness in his eyes, the coldness he'd seen that day by the roadside, the coldness only Cassiopeia could have instilled..._

Caroline's eyes flashed, "Are you unaware of accidental magic, Mr. Black?" she snapped, "They were hitting her!"

"Then where the hell were you when this happened?" His knuckles were white. _Annie, hurt, scared..._

Caroline stood, upsetting the tea tray. "I do not have to listen to this, Mr. Black. I might as well ask where _you_ where, although we all know the answer to that, do we not?" It was a low blow, though at that moment, Caroline did not particularly care, "I have raised her, and I have raised her well, and I do _not_ have to answer to you."

Sirius made to call after her, but the door was already slammed shut in his face, with a force which rattled a nearby vase, and sent it crashing to the floor.

...

He turned at the sound of a small cough and saw Cassiopeia standing in the opposite doorway, smirking. "Congratulations, Sirius. That was a wonderfully Gryffindor-esque display of hotheadedness."

He kicked the coffee table and sunk back into his chair, "Go away, Cassiopeia."

She walked into the room and sat down opposite him. "I don't think I shall."

"What do you want?"

"Oh, there are a great many things that I want."

"And among them my beating heart on a platter?"

"Oh no – you are of much more use to me alive."

He made no response.

"I told you earlier, _earlier today_, that our house is weak and divided. Lucius Malfoy has turned against us. I want a strong Head of House to lead us, and to keep us together. I have already brought your Cousin Andromeda and her family back into the fold. Caroline is important as well."

"How do _you_ consider her to be of use?"

Cassiopeia arched her eyebrow, "She is of very little _use_, I suppose. Although Maia loves her, and Caroline is good with her. I have never been good with children."

"That has never stopped you before."

"I care for Caroline."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me the first time."

"How?"

"I am not completely heartless, Sirius. Besides, you know now that I have allied our House with Dumbledore and the Light."

"I know. It was quite a turnaround. How did that happen, exactly? Perhaps there's hope for your soul yet?"

"Perhaps." She said, inclining her head, her lips thin, "I stand for the House of Black, and no one else. Politics comes after family."

He noted that she did not answer his first question. "Well. You know my politics. And I imagine I know yours."

"Would you be interested in knowing your daughters?"

"She's a pureblood Slytherin who has had you as an overwhelming influence in her life. I can make a good guess at her politics." His voice was bitter.

Cassiopeia smirked, "Why don't you talk to your daughter about that yourself?"

"And imagine Marlene turning in her grave?"

"_And get to know your daughter_. She won't care for you otherwise. She's merely being civil now. I imagine you want more than that. And apologise to Caroline. She deserves it, you owe her, and you'll never stand a chance with _Maia_ if you don't."

...

Sirius knocked on the drawing room door.

He took a deep breath as Caroline called him in, "I came to apologise. I had no right to speak to you in such a manner."

"It's quite alright."

"It isn't. In wizarding culture, I owe you a great debt. One I don't think I can ever repay."

"I am well-versed in wizarding culture."

"I understand that."

"Would you like to sit down?" She gestured to an opposing seat, formally.

He waited a moment before sitting down, "Thank you."

Sirius glanced around the room, clasped and unclasped his hands, and then took a deep breath, "I always liked the Taurus constellation."

Caroline laughed at the peace offering, "When Marius chose Maia, he did so because it managed to follow the conventions and still find a name that sounded reasonably normal."

"Yes, going through school with the name _Serious_ did have its drawbacks." He rubbed his thin hands, "What were you going to tell me about Cassiopeia?"

"Only that I am _not _deluded and that I knew that she had objectionable motives. She sought Maia out believing her to be a promising half-blood; she hoped that the child could be saved from a Squib and a muggle and taught to think as a 'proper' Black would."

"And has she been successful?"

Caroline titled her head and narrowed her eyes, "Do not try my limited patience, Mr. Black. Maia is a good girl, and her heart is in the right place. She is, by all accounts, at the top of her class for Muggle Studies. She enjoys it. She wishes to address her ignorance of the muggle world, and I fully support her endeavour. Why don't you talk to her, before you condemn her?"

"I never meant to do that."

"I don't expect you did, but she won't take kindly to the implication. Maia has been through a lot, _and I won't let you hurt her_."

...

"I'm sorry you missed the gentlemen." Said Narcissa, pouring the tea for Maia.

"Thank you." She said, taking the first sip. "And I don't mind at all. I called unannounced, I should have realised that Uncle Lucius and Draco would have plans."

"Yes... men and their Quidditch."

"I'm looking forward to the World Cup."

"And I'm glad that one of us is." Narcissa paused a moment, and smoothed her skirt unnecessarily. "How is Cousin Sirius getting on?"

"Mr. Black is doing well, although I have seen little of him. He seems to prefer the sunroom to the rest of the house, and I have spent most of my free time in the library recently."

Narcissa smiled carefully, "Surely you have finished your homework by now, Maia? You are always so studious."

Maia inclined her head, "I do as my Aunt commands. I have finished, but I am still very interested in the overlap between Blood Magic and Potions, and I am learning Gaelic. Aunt Cassiopeia has also expressed a desire that I brush up on my French."

"And does Cousin Sirius not enjoy reading? I cannot exactly recall."

"I haven't exactly spoken to him."

Narcissa sighed, "Maia."

She raised an eyebrow and sighed exaggeratedly, "Aunt Narcissa."

Her aunt smiled at her fondly, tilting her head to better look at her niece. "I remember when you were in short dresses and pinafores, running in the dirt when you thought none of us could see. And now you sit before me, perfectly dressed as a young society witch should be, with all the good breeding and manners to go along with it. You are old enough to know what you should do."

Maia stared down into her tea cup, "I know that I _should_ talk to him, but what in Salazar's name can I _say_? He ran away from our House when he was only a few years older than I am now, I can hardly be the daughter he imagined. And as far as I _feel_, my father died two years ago and that still hurts when I think about it."

Narcissa reached out and squeezed her hand, "And that's taking out the tragic circumstances of your separation, reunion and everything he went through in between."

Maia nodded, quickly brushing away a stray tear. She was thankful for her aunt, for her family.

"Well, I cannot pretend that a society Slytherin was what he foresaw in a daughter, but you, Maia, are not a daughter to be ashamed of. Your Uncle Lucius may not approve of your acquaintances, but I am impressed that you have the presence of mind to choose your associations on the basis of merit, not blood. It speaks well of Marius and Caroline that you do so. I sometimes wish..." she trailed away, and abandoned that line of talk.

"You are a diligent daughter, and a good girl. He will come to love you for who you are, I am sure. And I imagine that you will come to love him as well. These things take time, and cannot be forced. You must simply be open, honest and patient. Whatever happens will happen naturally."

"Mother said something rather similar."

"Well, Caroline has always been a rather intelligent woman." Said Narcissa, taking another sip of her tea.

"Family's really important to you, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"I agree, but I don't think it should blind you."

"That's very philosophical."

Maia blushed and dipped her head, "Perhaps so."

"I never said that it was incorrect."

Maia looked up to see Narcissa raising an eyebrow, a smirk in place.

"Would you like a biscuit, darling?"

...

Narcissa walked the grounds, taking in the late evening sunlight of the long summer days, and spinning her parasol with careful inattentiveness. Elegance was a studied act, after all. She had taken tea with Andy that morning, and Maia that afternoon, and while her movements were light, her heart was heavy.

There was something amiss with the Houses of Black and Malfoy.

Narcissa had looked on, as Ted had popped home from work for lunch, as he had kissed his wife, as he had smiled that same, easy smile. He was not the sort of man she would admire, but she could see the love in her sister's eyes as plain as Polaris in the night sky. And Narcissa had meant what she had once said: she would have chosen Lucius over anything, over family, over money, over magic.

She was quite sure that she would have loved him, even if he had been a Squib or a muggle.

And sometimes, when she thought back, and reflected on everything she had lost to the Dark and to blood, she wished that she had made Lucius get rid of every trace of Dark Magic from their home years earlier, that she had not waited all those years, after seeing Bella...

It had been foolish to wait.

To her, the family she loved (for she had given up on Irma and Druella the very same day they had proposed treason) were the most important. If she were to be blinded, now, it would always be for love, not blood. And so she was _disconcerted_ by the sense of _wrongness_ which seemed to follow her in her shadow.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Painfully wrong. Dangerously wrong.

Because, as much as she loved him, Lucius could be a fool.

The same went for all of them, Cassiopeia, Sirius, Maia, Caroline...

But then, who loves, and is not made a fool by it?

She knew, for certain, that she was a loving fool.

And she would not change it for the world.

...

Two days had passed.

Two long, long days.

Maia had turned the library into her prison, emerging only for mealtimes during which conversation was stilted.

Caroline had discovered a possessive and argumentative facet to her personality which she had not really recognised before, and of which she was not particularly proud.

Sirius had found that he had returned to a world where the two people he cared about most did not recognise him, did not know him, and did not know how to treat him. Well, one of them didn't. He couldn't speak of the other.

And that was how the pivot was tipped.

Caroline sat in her drawing room, taking tea, and trying to untangle the knots in her stomach. Something about Maia's visit to Hermione had not sat well with her for the last few days, and it had nothing to do with either of the girls. Sirius sat opposite her, pouring through the _Daily Prophet_ before tossing it aside in disgust.

"Are they still printing lies about Remus?"

"Yes." He snapped, "And they're getting worse by the day."

"They'll find something else to talk about soon. And Remus is safe."

"I know that, but I want them to catch the rat. I should have killed him when I had the chance."

Caroline swallowed, putting down her tea to hide the tremor that appeared in her hands, "When was this? I thought he was the one who cast the curse?"

Sirius pushed a hand through his newly-cropped hair, "No, I mean, I wanted to kill him in the shack that night, but Harry wouldn't let me."

"You were going to commit cold-blooded murder with four children looking on?"

"Remus was going to help."

She pursed her lips, "Well, it's good that those children had the sense to stop you."

Sirius clenched his fists.

Caroline sighed, "This Mr. Potter seems like a nice boy. I believe he's family after a fashion, isn't he?"

"He's my Godson, if that's what you mean?"

"Oh yes, I know that. But he'd also a distant cousin, through his great grand-mother Lucretia Black. He and Maia are second cousins, three times removed." Caroline paused, "I'm sorry. They're second cousins, once removed. I took Marius as her _biological_ father."*

Sirius cocked his head for a moment, but decided not to say anything, "I forgot about that. James and I were first cousins, once removed, although for obvious reasons, the branches were not on particularly friendly terms. The Prewetts and the Potters were, after all, blood traitors."

"I understand that Mr. Potter lives with his muggle relatives, am I right?"

Sirius nodded, "Yes, his aunt, and her husband and kid."

"Do you know the family well?"

"Not really..." He paused, "Lily and her sister were not close. Her sister was not _fond_ of the magical world."

"Do you believe that she is fond of Harry?"

Sirius looked at her sharply, turning round bodily to face her, "What do you mean?"

"Why are you so defensive?"

"I'm not defensive, I'm worried."

"Why?"

"I spied on him, in my Animagus form, last summer and to me, it looked very much like he was running away from home. Now why would you bring this up?"

"Because Hermione Granger inadvertently implied that they wouldn't let him interact with the magical world, and that he and his family did not get along well."

Sirius stood up, "We have to do something. We have to get him now."

Caroline shook her head, "No we don't. We speak to Cassiopeia, and we make a plan. And then we get him."

...

***For a full explanation of exactly how Harry and Maia are related, refer to Chapter 46 of 'As Black As Night'. I know that there was a Dorea Black who married a Charlus Potter, but no definitive link between them and James Potter has been established. I have created my own link which better serves the plot. (I.e. Dorea Black married Charlus Potter and their now-famed 'one son' was Polaris Potter. They all died prior to Hallowe'en 1981).**

**Also, for clarity and for anyone who's interested:**

**Maia and Draco are second cousins.**

**Harry and Maia are second cousins, once removed.**

**Draco and Harry are fourth cousins, once removed.**

**Cassiopeia is Draco's Great-Great Aunt.**

**Cassiopeia is Maia's Great-Great Aunt.**

**Cassiopeia is Harry's first cousin, four times removed.**

**Sirius is both Harry's Godfather and first cousin, twice removed.**


	5. Love Endureth

**I not own Harry Potter, and no profit is made from this story. **

**Trigger warnings: anger, swearing, grief, family difficulties and adjustment.**

Chapter Four_ ~ Love Endureth_

_Two Days Previously..._

Maia knocked on the door and strode in. Her mouth, open and ready to speak, closed suddenly when she saw Caroline and Sirius sitting opposite each other. While she could not yet read Sirius' face, her mother's lips and jaw were set in that firm line which conveyed severe displeasure.

"Good afternoon, mother. I just came to say that I have returned from Malfoy Manor. Aunt Narcissa asked me to return her fondest regards."

Caroline smiled, "Thank you, darling. Did you enjoy your visit?"

She glanced at Sirius, "Very much so, although neither Uncle Lucius or Draco were there."

"What a pity?" Her intonation formed the question.

Maia smirked, "It was half a pity." The smirk vanished as she glanced back towards Sirius, and her features went blank once more.

The words had been said though, and Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "Very good!" His eyes, for a moment, held a stronger spark of life that usual. His head tipped back slightly as he laughed, and his lips stretched, showing the cracks in the skin which had been dry for so long, as he smiled.

She swallowed, and fought the urge to fidget. "Thank you."

Caroline rose, smoothing her heavy, un-creased tweed skirt. "I'm going to go and visit Trixie and Twinky. They want to complain about the menus again. Perhaps you might like to keep Mr. Black company?"

Maia shot an almost mutinous glare at her mother, which softened when she saw the look of sympathy returned. "Of course, mother."

The silence was heavy for a moment after Caroline had left, and Maia remained standing near the doorway. Her posture was as formal and unbending as ever, but her feet carried her weight warily, balancing her in a fight of flight manner, edging her slightly towards the door. She was uncomfortable.

Sirius clasped his hands together, bringing them to rest over his chin and mouth. He sucked in a deep breath, biting his lower lip, as he watched his daughter from across the room. It all seemed so alien, like a blessing and a curse. He had grieved and hurt and wept with the pain of thinking that she was dead – slaughtered by Death Eaters. And now she was here, alive, and there was no denying that she was his daughter. She was as much a Black as he was. More so, with her sharp blue eyes. His own grey ones must have come from somewhere else in the family line. He hated to admit it, but he probably got them from the Malfoys.

And unlike him, she seemed perfectly at home in these surroundings. Well, perfectly at home unless they had to talk to each other.

Sirius was not put off by the wealth, per se, but by the values, if they could be called that, which to him the wealth represented. Perhaps it meant something different for her? He could not vouch for Cassiopeia, but Annie had been raised by a muggle and a Squib at the end of the day. Perhaps, for her, the money was just money? Her childhood could not have been like his own, although he was not sure if he had had a childhood at all.

He took another deep breath. This was his chance to talk to her, and he didn't have a clue what to say.

"Do you like Quidditch?"

He looked up. "Sorry?"

She made as if to twist her hands, but stopped herself in mid-movement. "I wondered if you liked Quidditch."

He smiled, though as hard as he tried, he could not make it reach his eyes, "Very much. Do you?"

"Yes."

"And do you play?"

She nodded once, "But not as much as before."

"Oh, why not?"

She glanced around the room, as if looking for answers there.

He frowned, "You don't have to tell me." He knew he had to be patient. He knew that. He did. He kept telling himself this. He had to try. He had to work at it. He studied her again. Since they had spoken, she had relaxed slightly. It was hard to tell either way – as reserved as she had been taught to be – but he recognised the imperceptible shift in balance, and she was no longer waiting to flee.

She chewed her lips, ever-so-slightly, for a moment and went to sit in Caroline's vacated chair. "It's just a long story."

"I like long stories." He wouldn't say it, of course, but he just wanted to hear her talk. He was just thankful to the Gods to see her alive. The topic was inconsequential.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Very well, I used to play a lot when I was small. Father bought me a Shooting Star when I was quite young. Mother was terrified." She glanced at him, and saw that his smile had become rather more forced.

He felt his gut tighten and took a deep breath, "I suppose it was something of a surprise for her, being a muggle." He genuinely smiled at the palpable relief which came from Annie. _I can do this_.

"I think it was, rather. But I enjoyed it, and Uncle Lucius used to take Draco and me to all the matches. He would get us the best tickets. I played for the House Team actually, in my second year."

"You made your team in only your second year?"

She nodded, looking somewhat pleased with herself.

"But you don't play anymore?"

Her features went blank. "No. I only played in one match, actually..." She waited for a moment, "I was indisposed, for much of second year, and so-"

"-indisposed? In what way?" He cut her off, leaning forwards in his chair.

"I was unwell?" Again, her intonation made a question and she inwardly cursed herself for her weakness. She was stronger than this, better than this, but at that moment, she couldn't remember _how_.

"But you watched the matches, I suppose?"

She was silent, looking down at her hands. They were clasped so tightly that not only the knuckles, but the fingers were white._ Why wasn't she just lying to him? _Her own indecision confounded her.

"You did not watch the matches?"

"No. I did not watch the matches."

"Merlin, what was wrong with you?"

"I was in-" his look stopped her and she sighed. "I was Petrified by a Basilisk, but as you can s-"

"-what!"

"Surely they told you?" She was grasping at doxy wings.

"No they bloody well didn't tell me!" He stood up, quickly, and Maia cringed back. "What the hell happened?"

"TRIXIE!"

Trixie appeared with a crack, took one look at Maia's face and flung her hand out in a movement which sent Sirius flying across the room. He slammed against the opposite wall and then slid down it, landing in a heap on the floor. The small Elf snarled in his direction. A few moments later the door was flung aside as Caroline and Cassiopeia ran into the room.

"What happened?"

Maia looked around at the chaos on the room and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Tell me what happened. Right. Now."

Sirius stood up, already storming across the room. "What the hell is this about a Basilisk attacking my daughter?"

Cassiopeia stepped forwards, "Sirius, calm down."

"Not until you tell me, right now, what the hell is going on. She's been attacked by muggles, a basilisk, is throwing around blood-purist curse words-"

Maia stood up, "I am _not_ throwing around those words."

"I heard-"

"-and I _told_ you-"

"-don't interrupt me-"

"-And _we_ told you, Hermione and I both, that it was a mistake. I _know_ it was a mistake. I made a stupid, stupid decision. I made a lot of them, when I think about it. But I would never_, ever_ call Hermione a you-know-what again. Why, in Salazar's name, would I go off to try and rescue her from _you_ otherwise?"

"_Annie_."

Maia turned from him, her face red, and walked quickly from the room, her back frighteningly straight. They heard the sound of feet running upstairs and then a door slam.

...

Maia paced her room, once, twice, three times and furiously brushed the tears from her face.

She hadn't meant to lose her temper.

She really hadn't meant to.

And it had been going so well.

And she should have known better than to tell him about the Basilisk. Because that would mean telling him about the Dark Lord and the diary and everything else, and they were meant to be taking things slowly with him. Merlin, he'd only just been released from St. Mungos.

But he'd looked so... so scary.

And he'd been scary because he was scared for her.

But it was just... it was just all too much.

She sunk down to the floor, and looked up a few moments later when a pair of small, thin arms wrapped themselves around her as far as they would go. She looked up and blinked. "Hello, Trixie."

"Trixie is not liking this. Trixie is not liking this _at all_."

Maia returned the hug, "I'm sorry."

"It is not being Miss. Maia's fault!"

Maia shook her head, "You know, you have always been a wonderful friend to me, Trixie. It's like having an aunt and a third parent or something like that."

"Of course it is, we is being family."

She laughed, brushing away the last of her tears. "Trixie, could I ask something of you?"

"Anything, Miss. Maia. Is you wanting biscuits, or cake, or flapjack? Twinky is also not being happy. Twinky is making lots of cake." The Elf's ears drooped.

She took a deep, steadying breath, "Actually, I was wondering if you could take me to dad."

...

Maia sat at the foot of Marius' grave. She spoke softly, her words muted, but she gestured with her hands as she explained herself. Trixie stood a little further back, her large, protruding eyes spilling over with tears. Maia stopped and buried her head in her lap. She had run out of words, and feeling, and hadn't been quite sure what she had wanted to say to begin with anyway. There was a quiet 'pop' behind her, and she looked up, drying her face as she did.

"I'm sorry I left." She said.

Cassiopeia shook her head, picking up her skirts as she walked through the grass towards Maia In spite of everything, the sun was still shining. "I'm informed that young people are prone to rashness and irresponsibility."

Maia let out a short laugh, "I'm glad I've got you."

"You've got your mother too. And your father."

Maia nodded, looking back at the gravestone.

_Marius Pollux Black_

_1915-1992_

_Beloved Brother, Husband and Father_

_Love Endureth All Things_

"I miss him."

"I know."

"Do you?"

"Pardon?"

"Do you miss him?" she persisted.

Cassiopeia sighed and looked away for a moment. She looked out, down the hill and to the grey stone church beneath them. "I've never particularly cared for the Muggle religions, but your father dabbled in them for your mother's sake. I do, however, think they found some truth when they spoke about love. It endures all things, and never dies."

Maia nodded, knowing that that was as close to an admission as she was ever likely to get. For a moment, looking at her aunt, she was suddenly struck by how very old she was. She must have lost a great many people. And then, she wished quite strongly, that she could one day grow into her aunt's strength.

"I'll never stop loving father."

"It's very hard to ever stop loving anyone."

There was something in Cassiopeia's tone that made Maia look up sharply. But whatever it was, the moment had passed, for she had arched her neck and was ready to talk seriously.

"Sirius should not have frightened you today. He is a grown man, and should control his temper."

"Things have not been easy for him. And he is a Black."

The ghost of a smile almost crossed Cassiopeia's face. "I'm glad you can see that, because indeed, they have not. It will be difficult for him to... adjust. But I know that he is trying, and he is family, and we must try and help him."

"I know. But I don't know how to be a daughter to him."

"Then don't try. Look at him as a cousin, or an uncle, and try to be civil."

"I _was_ civil."

"I know, but perhaps try not to talk about your various near-death experiences. He may not know you, but he loves you and cares for you, and he is struggling with a great deal. We have to tread softly with him, at least for a while. We cannot expect anything else."

Maia nodded, "I know... I didn't want to talk about it, but it just came up and, I don't know."

Cassiopeia reached over and stroked her hair. "I know." She sighed, "I hope you know that you are very dear to me, you and Caroline both."

Maia smiled, "I know."

"Good. Now, come along." She stood and ran her hand along Marius' headstone, before apparating them back to Black Rose House, back to their home.

...

**I'll either update tomorrow or Monday.**

**I hope this meets with your satisfaction. I was going to write this over a number of chapters, but I've cut them down and stuck them together instead. Given how much tension and sadness there is in the story, I wanted to try and end on something comforting. **


	6. And Never Faileth

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**A/N – Please remember, always drink responsibly and legally, or not at all!**

**A/N 2 – We jump back in time again by an hour or so, from where we left off in the last chapter. This is so we can see what happens to Sirius, while Maia's gone to Marius. It just seemed easier to split up their POVs. **

**Trigger warnings: anger, swearing, grief, alcohol consumption, family difficulties and adjustment.**

Chapter Five_ ~ And Never Faileth _

_Previously, at Black Rose House..._

"TRIXIE!"

Trixie appeared with a crack, took one look at Maia's face and flung her hand out in a movement which sent Sirius flying across the room. He slammed against the opposite wall and then slid down it, landing in a heap on the floor. The small Elf snarled in his direction. A few moments later the door was flung aside as Caroline and Cassiopeia ran into the room.

"What happened?"

Maia looked around at the chaos on the room and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Tell me what happened. Right. Now."

Sirius stood up, already storming across the room. "What the hell is this about a Basilisk attacking my daughter?"

Cassiopeia stepped forwards, "Sirius, calm down."

"Not until you tell me, right now, what the hell is going on. She's been attacked by muggles, a basilisk, is throwing around blood-purist curse words-"

Maia stood up, "I am _not_ throwing around those words."

"I heard-"

"-and I _told_ you-"

"-don't interrupt me-"

"-And _we_ told you, Hermione and I both, that it was a mistake. I _know_ it was a mistake. I made a stupid, stupid decision. I made a lot of them, when I think about it. But I would never_, ever_ call Hermione a you-know-what again. Why, in Salazar's name, would I go off to try and rescue her from _you_ otherwise?"

"_Annie_."

Maia turned from him, her face red, and walked quickly from the room, her back frighteningly straight. They heard the sound of feet running upstairs and then a door slam.

Caroline stepped forwards, pointing her finger at Sirius. "You stay well away from _my_ daughter."

"I'm her father."

"And I'm her mother."

Sirius closed his eyes, grabbed a handful of hair in each fist and pulled, "_I'm trying_." He said. His voice broke. He strode away from them, towards the window, and stared out over the grounds. "Godric knows I'm trying."

Caroline stopped for a moment, watching him, and her heart broke slightly. "I know."

He turned to look at her, shock written across his face. "I just... a _Basilisk_!"

"I know."

"I... I need to get out of here."

Cassiopeia moved to stop him, "No. You're supposed to stay here. The Healers-"

"-damn the bloody Healers!" he pushed back from them, turned on his heel, and vanished with a crack.

Caroline staggered over to the nearest chair and buried her own head in her hands. "I don't think I can do this."

Cassiopeia crossed the floor, and knelt at her feet. "Of course you can, you're the daughter of a baronet."

"We lost it all at the end of the first war."

Cassiopeia shook her head firmly, "The land and the money can go, but true nobility never dies."

"That's an awfully Gryffindorish thing to say." She sniffed.

"It seems that the House of Black has been displaying a number of Gryffindorish tendencies of late. I don't see why I should be excluded."

Caroline sighed, "I still don't know _how_ to do this."

"We just keep trying."

Caroline nodded, "Thank you, we should go an check on Maia."

...

When they entered the room, panic flooded through Caroline.

The room was pristine, spotless, and completely empty.

"Don't panic, Caroline, there's a note." Said Cassiopeia, her voice uncharacteristically kind.

_Dear Mother and Aunt Cassiopeia,_

_I am very sorry for losing my temper. Trixie and I have gone to visit father._

_I love you both,_

_Maia._

...

Sirius appeared with a 'crack' in the middle of Grimmauld Place. He shuddered to be here again. He wanted to close his eyes, cover his hears, to try and block out the memories which seemed to attack him from every corner.

He shook himself, and made his way through the house. He found himself following the voices into the kitchen. Remus was hunched over a mug of strong black coffee, whilst a young woman busied herself in the kitchen. Remus jumped to his feet as soon as Sirius walked in, "Padfoot, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry... please." He held up his hands.

Sirius rubbed his eyes, "Moony?"

"I..." He tugged a handful of his greying hair, "I would _never_..." He sunk back down into his chair and downed the last of the coffee. "I'm sorry."

Sirius sat down next to him, "Have you got any firewhiskey?"

The young woman – Sirius wished she would leave, whoever she was – turned round. "Ignore Remus, Sirius, he's been on a drunken guilt-trip. And no, I'm not giving you firewhiskey."

"It's my house. I can drink if I want." He snapped.

She rolled her eyes, but made no move to find his whiskey or tell him where he was.

Sirius sighed, "Kreacher!"

The old House Elf appeared, wearing a fluffy white tea towel embroidered with the Black family crest. He looked uncharacteristically clean and well-fed in comparison to what Sirius could last remember of him. "What is ungrateful Master wanting? Ungrateful Master who broke his mother's heart, ungrateful Master who deserves _nothing_."

Sirius fought the urge to flinch away from his old tormentor, "Firewhiskey."

"There's no firewhiskey."

"Why?"

"The filthy half-breed wolf drank the bottle we had, and the brat poured the rest away. And degenerate Master would be better off sober, though nothing, nothing can save him, and how he broke his mother's heart."

Sirius rolled his eyes, "I get the picture. Just... just go clean something."

The Elf disappeared with a crack, and a mug of coffee appeared in front of him.

"You'd probably be better off with this anyway."

Sirius looked up and sighed, "Look, I don't know who you are, and I'm assuming Remus let you in, but can you just go, please?"

She laughed, suddenly, and even Remus looked up, for a moment. "Dora, just let us talk. I know why Sirius is here. I understand. Please, just let us... let him."

She rolled her eyes, "If he were here to kill you for attacking his daughter, he'd have done it already."

Sirius blinked, "I'm not angry with you about that."

"Really?"

"Well, a bit." He said, feeling he ought to be honest.

"I know." He paused, "I didn't... I would never... Maia..."

Sirius snorted, _"Maia."_

"I would never _knowingly_ hurt her."

"Why the hell did you abandon her then?" he snapped, suddenly, in both voice and heart, pushing away his coffee and standing up. Remus' words taunted him: _I would never knowingly hurt her._

Hadn't Remus knowingly hurt her? Hadn't he known what would happen if he left her to the Blacks?

And hadn't he, Sirius, damned her himself in a blinding rage and a torrent of grief? Hadn't he abandoned her too, the moment he ran after Peter?

He slammed his hand down on the table, cutting off his thoughts.

"Why the _hell_ did you leave her to _Cassiopeia_, of all people! In Godric's name! And what the hell is this? You shack up here with _that_-"

"-Don't you _dare_ speak about-"

"- I get out of Azkaban and you don't even-"

"-I can't exactly leave this-"

"-Because the Ministry is so damn competent that they'd find you if you Polyjuiced yourself?"

He stepped away from table, heading for the door. At the last moment, he turned round, "I _trusted_ you, Remus. I _trusted _you. When Marlene... Godric, when Marlene died you _promised_." Sirius looked up at the ceiling, willing the tears to fall back into his eyes. Wishing he wasn't crying. Wishing it wasn't all like _this_. "And you _left_ her. Godric, Remus, what did you do? Toss her out in damn the street?"

Remus stared back at him from the table. He shook his head. "I don't know what I did. I don't know what I was thinking. I gave her to Dumbledore."

"And thank the Gods for small mercies then?" He threw his arms in the air, "I don't even _know _her, _recognise_ her! _I scare her._" His voice broke, hollow and raw.

"Of course you don't know her."

He turned to the woman, standing by the sink holding a tea towel. "I'll thank you to stay out of this."

"You thought she was dead, and she grew up knowing you as the relative nobody talked about. Of course you don't know her. And while you shouldn't try to frighten her, and while I'm sure you don't mean to anyway, you can't escape the fact that she's only ever associated you with danger and fear. You have to be patient with her. You have to understand-"

"-Who the hell-"

Remus held up a hand, "Leave her out of this, Sirius."

"You brought her into it! You brought her here! Remus, how could you leave my girl?"

Remus finally stood, slamming both hands, palm down, onto the wooden surface. "I don't know. Damn you, Sirius, I don't know. I thought you'd just murdered our best friends, blown up a street full of muggles, and had been You-Know-Who's right hand man for Godric knows how long! So yes, I don't know! And I told you not to leave her to me, because by _Godric_, do you think they would have let me keep her anyway! Really, would they? I'm a _WEREWOLF!"_

He doubled over where he stood, choking rather than crying.

"Remus..."

Tonks dropped the tea towel, pushing Remus back down into his chair. "And you're a man, a man who I love. And you shouldn't have emotionally-charged arguments when you're drunk." She shook her head and turned to Sirius.

"Can you leave, now?"

"Pardon?"

"Leave."

"This is my house."

"Cassiopeia gave it to us."

"I..."

"Just leave."

...

Sirius pulled the bar stool out roughly and sat down, putting his throbbing head back in his hands.

"Firewiskey."

He couldn't believe just how spectacularly he had messed everything up in the last few hours.

_Caroline_

_Remus _

_Annie_

And Godric knew, he was trying, but it was _just so hard_.

And Harry... he still had to find out about Harry.

And he hadn't meant to lose his temper, he hadn't meant to panic. He really hadn't meant to scare her. But Merlin, a Basilisk! She could have been killed. The thought made his very blood and bones and soul run cold. And he couldn't blame Remus for what he did as a werewolf – he couldn't – but he couldn't be expected to like it. And he knew Remus knew that too. But how could Remus have abandoned her? How?

He would sooner have died than betray his friends.

And he would sooner die than abandon their children.

He had to find out about Harry.

And he had to fix things with Annie.

And he couldn't help but feel haunted by the thought that was now chasing him: that he was as bad as Remus... That he had abandoned Annie as much as Remus had...

Oh Godric, she wouldn't want to be called Annie. None of them wanted to call her Annie.

He looked up, "Where's that firewhiskey?"

But Annie was such a beautiful name, and it had suited his beautiful little baby so perfectly.

But she was gone.

And then another thought: he had thought her dead for so long.

And he could have lost Annie – _Maia_ – so easily. A Basilisk!

He would fix things. He hadn't survived Azkaban to let it fall apart now. He would fix it. He would. He had to. He loved her. He still loved her. And he loved Harry and James and Lily and Marlene and he'd fix it for them. The name didn't matter. He'd fix it. He'd fix it because he loved her, whoever she was. He'd love her no matter what. Because she was alive. Thank Godric – thank Salazar, if he had to – she was alive. And that was what mattered.

He'd fix it.

...

It was late.

Too late.

The three of them were still waiting downstairs, just in case he came in. Ted and Nymphadora were both out looking for him.

It was dark.

He should have been back hours ago.

Cassiopeia looked at the clock, watching the hands tick past and past, "I should never have given him a wand."

Caroline squeezed her hand, "You weren't to know." She stood up to tuck a blanket around Maia, where she had fallen asleep on the settee.

"Oh, I knew, I knew it was a bad idea, I just didn't think it would be _this_ bad. I thought it might help him. I thought it might mark a passage in time. I thought it might help him adjust, and start again. I didn't think he'd vanish off the face of the earth."

"Couldn't the Elves find him?"

"Twinky hasn't met him yet, and Trixie is being rather un-co-operative... so no."

"I don't like to say it, but we could order her."

Cassiopeia shook her head, "Not when she's in _that_ state of righteous indignation. We can try and persuade her again in a few more hours if he doesn't turn up. We'll persuade Maia to cry. She can't refuse Maia anything if she's crying." The elderly woman rolled her eyes, as if to say that she was surrounded by fools.

"There are always the Aurors?"

"We're not that desperate." She glanced again at the clock, "At least not yet." She paused, "Though I doubt they'd be much help. He hid from them for almost a year last time, didn't he?"

"Sarcasm doesn't help in times like this, you know."

"It helps me."

They heard the door open and close. Both women looked up at the same time.

"_179 bottles of wiggenweld potion standing on the wall... 179 bottles of wiggenweld potion... potion... standing on the wall... and if one bottle of potion... if one bottle of potion, should accidentally fall there'll be... 178 bottles... 178..."_

Tired-sounding laughter carried through the hall, followed by a deep, northern lilt. "That's enough Sirius. I think you've had enough."

"Give it back."

"Nope, you're home now. You have to hand the bottle over." They heard the sounds of a scuffle, "Here, Dora, you take it."

"Good Scott, he's drunk." Gasped Caroline.

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow, "Did you only just work that out?"

Ted Tonks came into the room, pulling Sirius with him, the younger man's arm slung around his shoulder. Tonks followed behind him, carrying the offending bottle of firewhiskey. "We found him in the Hog's Head."

"Oh, the headlines will be wonderful." Snapped Caroline.

Cassiopeia smirked – _pot, cauldron, black_ – and shook her head, "I'll pay the _Prophet_ off tonight."

"What a lovely thought." Said Tonks, with a suspiciously innocent smile.

Cassiopeia turned to her, "Order of Merlin, Third Class?"

She shrugged, "Good point. Oh well, what shall we do with him?"

They turned to Sirius, sprawled in the armchair where Ted had dumped him.

Cassiopeia bristled, "Oh, I know _exactly_ what to do with him." She turned on her heel and marched from the room, returning a few moments later with a bottle of scarlet-coloured potion.

Ted's eyes widened, "That's not..."

"Oh yes, it is. I've kept it in stock since the children started becoming teenagers."

Tonks frowned, "What is it?"

Ted shuffled his feet and looked away as Cassiopeia prised open Sirius' jaw and poured the potion down, forcefully closing his mouth so that he had no choice but to swallow.

"Sobriety Potion."

Tonks winced.

"Mum did that to me and Charlie Weasley once."

Ted chuckled, "I know. The night you came back after celebrating your NEWT results. For some reason he thought we would be more relaxed about it than Molly, daft lad-"

Suddenly, Sirius interrupted them with a strangled gasp. His eyes we wide and he doubled over. He coughed and spluttered. It was enough to wake Maia up.

"What's going on?"

Caroline went to sit down next to her, trying to get her to lie back down, and to tuck her back into the blanket. "Your Cousin Nymphadora and Uncle Edward found Mr. Black, but I'm afraid that he isn't feeling very well."

"He's blind drunk." Said Tonks brightly, grinning down at her cousin, whose eyes were streaming with tears, and who was now on all fours. "I'd forgotten the part where it made me cry."

"And about to be stone-cold sober." Snapped Cassiopeia, "Which I hope is a lesson to you not to dabble in drink, Maia Violetta, because I've a potion with your name on it if you do."

Finally, Sirius became still, and dragged himself back into the arm chair, "Why don't you just kill me?"

"Because, as I've said before, you're more use to me alive. Now if you don't mind, I've an organ of the press to bribe. Get some sleep and you can beg for my forgiveness tomorrow morning. It had better be good."

...

When Maia woke in the morning, her neck and body were stiff. It took her a moment to realise that she must have fallen back asleep on the settee, and been left there. Merlin, her bed was much more comfortable. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, sitting up when she noticed Mr. Black leant back and snoring in an armchair.

_When did he get back?_

Then she remembered, and smirked to herself. Somewhere upstairs, there was a loud crash which resounded through the house. Mr. Black jumped up with a start. He automatically reached for his wand.

"Where's my wand?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Aunt Cassiopeia confiscated it." She paused. "She's also thrown away all the alcohol in the house. You're not allowed to drink anymore, she said, if you can't be sensible about it. And neither is Remus, by all accounts."

He screwed up his nose, "Wonderful." He leant back in his chair and shielded his eyes from the morning light, his senses finally hitting him. "Is it just me, or is that echoing?"

"It's just you."

He groaned. "Bloody potion."

"What does it do?"

"It ends the drunken stage immediately, and amplifies the hang over."

"Well, you bought it all on yourself."

He looked up, his eyes were bloodshot. "In five years, I'll make sure to show you just as much sympathy when the roles are reversed."

It was rather odd, but she felt far more comfortable around him now than she had before. Maybe the shouting had released some of the tension, or maybe it was talking to Aunt Cassiopeia yesterday, or, more likely, that he was now unarmed and almost incapable of movement. "If I ever want to make a drunken, disrepute spectacle of myself – which I highly doubt I will – I know better than to let Aunt Cassiopeia find out."

He sighed. "You know, I wanted to apologise, for yesterday. I didn't mean to scare you."

She sat up stiffly, and started to re-arrange her hair and dress. "That's quite alright."

He shook his head, "It's not. But seriously, a Basilisk?"

"It was a rather dramatic year."

"I'll bet. Do I even want to know?"

"Aunt Cassiopeia was going to tell you soon, about all of it. I think she wanted to filter it all through."

He nodded slowly, "Do you think you could get me some water?"

She tightened her lips, but rolled her eyes, "I'll see to it."

...


	7. Sober Reflections

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**A/N – Once again, please remember, always drink responsibly or not at all!**

Chapter Six_ ~ Sober Reflections_

_Two days later..._

Late that afternoon, Maia found herself sitting on the deck of the boathouse. She had intended to read, but instead wound up watching the sunlight dancing on the smooth surface of the water. She was reading in French, having been ordered to improve her language skills over the holidays. It was quiet and peaceful; she could hear the odd chirping of birds here and there, with low notes and high notes and the sound of her pages turning, though she hadn't glanced down at them in a while.

The quiet was nice.

The house had been in uproar these last two days, and she had been reduced to hiding in the library. Aunt Cassiopeia had been furious with Mr. Black, although she had successfully bribed the papers to keep his antics quiet. She had not been happy about it though, and had blown up some unwanted furniture to vent her frustrations. Trixie was in a particularly bad mood, particularly with Mr. Black, and extra hot chilli powder had found its way into his morning breakfast, and his sugar had been mixed with salt. She _tried_ not to smile, thinking that they would probably have to have a talk with the Elf.

She turned her face upwards to the sun, enjoying its warmth, and jumped up when she heard the sound of footprints on the deck. She dropped her book, which Mr. Black bent to pick up.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

She took the book back with an automatic curtsey, "Thank you."

He looked around, "This is a nice hiding place. Better than the library."

She had the grace to blush, "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Do you mind if I join you?"

She gestured to another seat.

"Thank you."

There was a pause, while he turned out to face the lake. "So you like Quidditch?"

"I thought we'd already established that."

He grimaced. "Well, we never finished the conversation. Which position do you play?"

"Chaser."

"I was on the House Team myself, Beater."

There was silence.

Maia cast around for something else to say, "Are you looking forward to the World Cup?"

He smiled, a genuine smile, "Very much. I hear we're even in the Top Box."

"Yes, I think they're hoping you'll forget about the wrongful imprisonment."

Again, there was silence.

"An... _Maia_..."

She looked up, trying to keep the look of surprise off of her face, "Yes?"

"Would you like to go flying some time?"

She paused, clasping her hands. She had never been flying with dad, but he had always watched her, and given her her brooms. But, then, Uncle Lucius had taken her to matches, so perhaps... She swallowed, "I think that might be nice."

...

That evening, Caroline sat in her drawing room, taking tea, and trying to untangle the knots in her stomach. Something about Maia's visit to Hermione had not sat well with her for the last few days, and it had nothing to do with either of the girls...

Sirius sat opposite her, pouring through the Daily Prophet before tossing it aside in disgust.

"Are they still printing lies about Remus?"

"Yes." He snapped, "And they're getting worse by the day."

Caroline observed him over the rim of her tea cup. He was thin, still too thin. Of course, he had filled out over the last few weeks, but she could tell by his frame, and the set of his shoulders, that he had once been a strong, broad-chested man. What concerned her most were his still-sunken, still-haunted eyes. He troubled her. Part of her wanted to resent him, to find something fundamentally objectionable about him and take Maia far, far away. But she could not. Not entirely. And she didn't want to say that another man could be a father to Maia, when Marius had loved her so much and so dearly. But this man did love his daughter. He may not know her, but love doesn't die and it doesn't ask questions. He had been horrified at the thought of her in danger, from muggle boys and Basilisks. And, well, she found it very hard to outright dislike someone who cared so strongly for her daughter.

She fought the urge to sigh.

But he was not a healthy man. He was sick, tired and followed by torments and their ghosts.

But perhaps he could heal?

Because, at the end of the day, he was innocent. And he deserved a chance to heal, and to know the daughter he loved.

"They'll find something else to talk about soon. And Remus is safe."

"I know that, but I want them to catch the rat. I should have killed him when I had the chance."

Caroline swallowed, putting down her tea to hide the tremor that appeared in her hands, "When was this? I thought he was the one who cast the curse?"

Sirius pushed a hand through his newly-cropped hair, "No, I mean, I wanted to kill him in the shack that night, but Harry wouldn't let me."

"You were going to commit cold-blooded murder with four children looking on?"

"Remus was going to help."

She pursed her lips, "Well, it's good that those children had the sense to stop you."

Sirius clenched his fists.

Caroline sighed, "This Mr. Potter seems like a nice boy. I believe he's family after a fashion, isn't he?"

"He's my Godson, if that's what you mean?"

"Oh yes, I know that. But he'd also a distant cousin, through his great grand-mother Lucretia Black. He and Maia are second cousins, three times removed." Caroline paused, "I'm sorry. They're second cousins, once removed. I took Marius as her biological father."*

Sirius cocked his head for a moment, but decided not to say anything, "I forgot about that. James and I were first cousins, once removed, although for obvious reasons, the branches were not on particularly friendly terms. The Prewetts and the Potters were, after all, blood traitors."

"I understand that Mr. Potter lives with his muggle relatives, am I right?"

Sirius nodded, "Yes, his aunt, and her husband and kid."

"Do you know the family well?"

"Not really..." He paused, "Lily and her sister were not close. Her sister was not fond of the magical world."

"Do you believe that she is fond of Harry?"

Sirius looked at her sharply, turning round bodily to face her, "What do you mean?"

"Why are you so defensive?"

"I'm not defensive, I'm worried."

"Why?"

"I spied on him, in my Animagus form, last summer and to me, it looked very much like he was running away from home. Now why would you bring this up?"

"Because Hermione Granger inadvertently implied that they wouldn't let him interact with the magical world, and that he and his family did not get along well."

Sirius stood up, "We have to do something. We have to get him now."

Caroline shook her head, "No we don't. We speak to Cassiopeia, and we make a plan. And then we get him."

...

**A/N – Lord Annandale... If only I could answer your review! It made me laugh, simply because it was like reading a conversation I've been having with myself. **

**And so, I would hold my hands up here, bow my head, and admit that I decided to try and make Narcissa a little 'nicer' because Voldemort will be back soon and I wanted some sort-of 'decent' characters to work with. Also, I think she does genuinely love Lucius, Draco and Maia enough to start to question, earlier than in canon, the prejudice she has lived by. **

**I am planning on trying to (subtlety) introduce a (different) third level soon though, though not specifically for Narcissa...**


	8. To Be A Black

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**A/N – The end of the last chapter was an extended version of the earlier conversation between Caroline and Sirius. It was there to keep some sense of time continuity and to show that we have now caught up with ourselves, given recent jumps, before moving on to 'Project Harry'. I did not realise this decision would be so negatively received. **

**So, moving on, here is the beginning of 'Project Harry' (and the credit for this phrasing must go to a guest reviewer). : ) **

Chapter Seven_ ~ To Be A Black_

Harry James Potter.

The Boy-Who-Lived.

The Godson of Sirius Orion Black.

The second cousin of Maia Violetta Black.

The first cousin, four times removed of Cassiopeia Andromeda Black.

The first cousin by marriage, four times removed of Caroline Louisa Black.

It was – after a rather vehement argument at the dinner table – agreed that Harry James Potter was, almost, just about, good enough to be a Black.

...

Of course, this first of all meant an investigation.

After all, and much to Sirius' disgust, Black Rose House was dominated by Slytherins. The first thing they did was visit Hermione again, the next day, when Sirius had another check-up with the Healers. She did not take much convincing, when strongly reminded that Harry was related to the House of Black, to admit that his aunt and uncle "Were deeply, deeply unpleasant. Vile, in fact." and that Harry was not happy. She related how his last Christmas present had been a pair of old, dirty socks.

After that revelation, they began to plan in earnest, once again to Sirius' frustration. He was in favour of blasting down the door and taking Harry before the Dursley's had a chance to blink.

He sat by fidgeting as the three women poured over family trees, and different pieces of paper and parchment. It was an odd collection of magic and muggle documentation, but the women seemed to be in their element.

"What are you doing?"

They looked up in unison, "Plotting."

...

Another two days later, Cassiopeia returned to the house looking tired and worn. She cast aside her travelling cloak and summoned herself a strong cup of tea. The rest of the family sat waiting for her in the library.

She held up a halting hand when Sirius rose as she entered.

Undeterred, he spoke up, "For Merlin's sake, can we get him now?"

She shook her head as she sat down into her chair, and took a large sip of tea. "I've spoken to Dumbledore, and we need to wait another week, and then, we must proceed with _extreme_ caution."

"Why? He shouldn't be there. James would kill me if he knew I was just letting him languish there. I heard you talking about what that girl – Hermione – said!" He started to pace to room, pushing his hair out of his face. "Look. I know he's not family enough for-"

She sighed, "-he is plenty enough family for me. Rather, he is protected by blood wards, of the strongest and most ancient magic-"

"-He shares blood with us!"

"He needs blood from his mother's family." Said Cassiopeia, her voice deliberately quiet so that Sirius had to stop to hear her.

Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "But we can set up new wards, and there are wards here already, plenty of them!"

Caroline watched him closely, noting the strain and tension around his eyes. She turned to Cassiopeia, "Please, there's more, isn't there? Just tell us everything."

Sirius finally turned to look at Cassiopeia. "I'm sorry, I just..."

She nodded, "I know. I've spoken to Dumbledore, and the reason Harry is there, and has to stay there, is because of Blood Magic. When Lily Potter sacrificed herself to save her son." Cassiopeia paused and took a deep breath, "She did so with the purest intentions. Her only motive was love. She died because she loved him, and she died willingly, lovingly, trying to save him. And in doing so, in dying out of love to save another, she evoked the strongest of Blood Magic. Her mother's love – although any pure love would do – sparked the love and blood and magic in her veins, and so the veins of her family. The Dark Lord – quite literally – cannot touch Potter. Given that the Dark Lord has already sought out Potter in the past, and that one of his servants is most likely searching him out as we speak, these Blood Wards cannot be broken."

"So Harry has to stay with that... that _woman_ for the Blood Magic to remain intact?" said Maia, listening intently. "I've read about things like this, but it has to be willing. It's the same as with all magic, it's about intent. She had to _accept _him there."

Cassiopeia inclined her head, "That's true, but it is about intent. She had to intend to accept him. The intent remains however grudgingly or callously it is given."

Caroline tilted her head, "But what about Mr. Potter? What about his intent? Is this a two-way process? I confess, I am most confused."

"Mr. Potter simply has to make the decision to go home, and arrive there. Again, the question of intent here is subtle. Lily Potter _intended_ to save her son. As long as Mr. Potter and Mrs. Dursley _intend_ to live together, the magic Mrs. Potter invoked remains intact. It is not about considering it a home, or about love. That was needed by Mrs. Potter to invoke the magic, its continuation requires a great deal less force, so to speak. The blood and love and magic are intertwined, so to speak, so now that they have been invoked, they cannot be put out unless Harry or Mrs. Dursely openly and deliberately _intend_ to do so."

Caroline nodded, "You say that the love and blood and magic are connected, but how can that be so? Mrs. Dursley is a muggle, she has no magic. How can magical wards possibly rely upon her? I know for a fact that all our wards are dependant upon you."

Maia nodded as well, looking very convinced, as did Sirius.

Cassiopeia sighed, "Love – as much as I hate to agree with Dumbledore on any matter despite the fact that this is occurring with increasing frequency – is the _strongest_ of magic. Don't muggles have a saying that love can move mountains? Of course, muggles cannot move mountains, but the meaning behind the phrase stands. Muggles have been known to achieve far more than they ought to be capable of when driven by love. Love can change lives, change anything and everything, I suppose. It's a magic in and of itself. One does not need a wand to yield it."

Caroline looked rather moved.

Sirius flung his hands in the air, "But there has to be something, anything, that we can do?"

"He has to stay there for a minimum of two weeks a year, and it has to remain his home in that sense. They have to remain his guardians until he turns seventeen."

"Two weeks?"

"To be sure, we're going to wait another two weeks before we go and fetch him. And we'll have to _extract_ him and arrange a compromise with the Dursleys most carefully. Their intentions must not change. The wards must not be broken."

...

Petunia Dursley was neither a nice nor kind nor caring woman.

She carried around with her – and with pride – a wilful disdain for others. She had no interest in those around her. She was, in addition, vain and self-seeking. She had climbed the greasy pole into the established middle classes, and was always looking to pull herself that one inch higher.

And so, when the crisp, thick and heavy cream envelope, embossed with a family crest of all things, dropped through her letterbox and onto her doormat, her hands trembled with excitement. Smoothing her hair and half-apron, as if the paper could see her, she stooped to pick it up. She then tottered towards the kitchen in her heels, calling for Vernon as she went. Her voice was harsh and nasal. Vernon looked up from his copy of the Financial Times as she came into the kitchen.

Petunia shot a look at the messy-haired boy, who was scrubbing the inside of the oven with a scouring pad. "Vernon, get rid of that boy. I need to talk to you."

Vernon followed her gaze, "Get out of here, boy."

Harry straightened himself up, carefully keeping his face impassive. "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

The boy was out the door before they had a chance to speak to him again, or give him something else to do.

"What is it, Petunia, dear?"

She sat down in the chair opposite him, laying out the envelope with the crest facing up for him to admire.

His beady eyes gleamed.

Slowly, she turned it over so that they could admire the smooth, cursive handwriting of the writer.

_Mrs. Vernon Dursley,  
4 Privet Drive,  
Little Whinging  
Surrey_

"That's nice." He said, showing his teeth as he grinned. "Very proper."

She nodded, taking a perverse amount of satisfaction in the old-fashioned mode of address. Old-fashioned meant old money.

"Shall I open it?"

He nodded eagerly.

_Dear Mrs. Dursley,_

_I hope you do not object to my taking the liberty to address you. I have recently been extending the scope of my family tree, and have discovered that there is a link between my family, the Courthays, and your family, the Evans'. _

_I should first, of course, introduce the history of the Courthays. Our family rose to prominence in the fourteenth century, under the reign of Edward III, when my ancestor Henri d'Courthae arrived as a diplomatic envoy from Aquitaine. He made his home and future in the English court after he married a daughter of the Earl of Northumberland. My own late father was Sir. William Courthay of Courthay Hall, who may have come to your attention in the past, as he has been noted in history for his distinguished conduct regarding the welfare of his men during the Boer War._

_However, I do not wish to bore you. I have always had a personal interest in genealogy, having read history at Girton in my youth. Now that I have reached my old age, and have found that the successive wars of this century have depleted the number of those that I might call family, I have been working to find those with whom I might share a family history. It seems that the Evans' intermarried with the daughter of one Reginald Morris and Esther Courthay (whose father was the younger son of a younger son, poor thing) in 1926. Their children were cousins of your esteemed father, after a fashion._

_I shall be in town next Saturday, and would be excessively pleased if you could find the time to take tea with me. Might I suggest the tea rooms at Fortnum and Masons? They have always been a personal favourite of mine. I would be delighted to make the acquaintance of yourself and your family, particularly your son and nephew. I have always been fond of children – having never had any of my own – and it speaks so greatly of your character that you have taken in an orphan. Please do not think ill of me for taking the liberty to say such things – the facts simply came to my attention whilst I was conducting my research, and I was most impressed by your open-hearted kindness. _

_Please reply at your earliest convenience by the return address._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Caroline Courthay._

Petunia finished reading the letter with a delighted flourish. "She calls London 'town'. That's a mark of real class, you know." She said, her smile wide and smug.

"It is." Said Vernon, puffing out his chest, "And she wants to make us family."

Petunia's eyes practically glowed. "It's simply wonderful. We're meeting her, of course?"

"Of course." Said Vernon, as though there had never been a doubt in his mind. "It's a shame she wants to see the boy."

Petunia waved her hand, "We can make him behave himself, and I'll write in advance to warn her about him. She says it speaks well of us to take him in. I bet we'll get even more sympathy when we tell her how we've struggled with his dangerous criminality and instability."

"Good. Good idea, Petunia. And she's got no children of her own – never married by the looks of it – and not much family to speak of." His grin grew wider, "If we play this right, I reckon we could get our way into her will. I mean, look at the letter. She must be ancient, must have been born what... around 1910? If her dad was in the Boer War... when was that?"

She shrugged, "How should I know? Still, we'll look him up and tell her we knew about him before. And all his distinguished conduct."

"Yes, we'll do that. I'll tell her about my family, in the war. My uncle was an officer, you know."

"Oh yes, that's a good idea..."

...

**And so it begins! : ) **


	9. Black Waters Change The Tide

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Eight_ – Black Waters Change The Tide_

Albus Dumbledore walked the empty and silent halls of Hogwarts alone.

It felt almost wrong, that the school was so still, so quiet. He had always loved Hogwarts, and particularly its noise and bustle and _life_. It had been his first true home, the first place he had felt _truly_ happy. For there was little happiness to be had a Godric's Hollow, and what they had had, had been portioned out both meagrely and sparsely. And over the years, those portions had become meaner and meaner.

No, Hogwarts had been the place where Albus Dumbledore learnt to smile, and it was this place which put the light, the sparkle, into his eye.

For him, Hogwarts _was_ life, it was hope.

And it was a place for children. Who were life and hope personified.

He saddened him, though, how many of those children found happiness here, to escape the sorrow of home.

Cedric Diggory, living with a father still in shock from the murder of his sister, Edna.

The Weasley children, most of them barely remembering their uncles.

Susan Bones, who never knew her Uncle Edgar.

Neville Longbotton, raised by his grandmother.

Maia Black, raised by her Great- Great Aunt and Uncle.

And there were more, but at least he knew that these children _were_ happy, and _were_ well-cared for, and he knew that they did not live their lives blighted by misery, though their remaining family carried a daily grief, no doubt.

The last war had left dark shadows across all of their lives.

And even the children of the other side, they were engulfed in dark shadows too. They lived with the knowledge of their relatives in Azkaban, with the knowledge that their parents lived their lives as a balancing act, and that one day it could all come crashing down from either side...

No. It _would_ come crashing down around them.

Because one day, Tom _would_ come back.

And those who had been loyal knew that more than most – those Marks had never truly faded. The Magic had never truly died.

The burned and charred diary locked away in his office was a haunting testament to that.

Which brought him back to Harry, who's life and been blighted – unduly blighted – by the last war, and who carried a shadow with him every day, and perhaps, as Dumbledore was coming to increasingly fear, within his very soul.

And was it not enough that he had to lose his parents, but that the only place, the _only_ place, that he could be truly safe, could keep his mother's protection, was with her sister? No, that was not the problem. The sister herself was the problem, and the man she had married and the son she had raised. He had never truly, truly believed they would reject Harry as they did, despite Minerva's warnings that night. But they had, and he had had to look on.

Because he had always known, in his very bones and soul, that Tom would be back, and that Harry would need his mother's lasting love more than any protection he could provide.

And so it was a rock and a hard place, but both that rock and that hard place had made a home in his conscience, and would sit there, heavy and immovable, until the day he died.

But now, there was, perhaps, a way to give Harry something better.

Cassiopeia Black was many things, but she had offered Harry a home, and a family, and in a heavily warded and protected Black property.

And, he had told himself, she had aligned herself to the Light, and he had no doubt that she would now stay there. And there were Sirius, and Caroline, and now Maia, who would be there as well.

No, if the Blacks wanted to give him a home, he would not block their path.

Because that diary, the knowledge it had given him, was a spectre that would one day haunt Harry far more than it did now.

And every child deserved happiness.

But he would do everything, everything he could, to save that boy. Because there was no point, no point at all, to all his intelligence and all his accomplishments, if he could not save one little boy.

...

The tea rooms at Fortum and Masons looked out onto the side streets of Piccadilly, and then the streets leading towards St. James' Square and the private clubs and reading rooms which surrounded it. They provided excellent gossip-fodder, if one knew what to look for.

While this may have been of use to some, for Caroline Black nee Courthay, the large windows were of use because they allowed her to see who was coming.

They were not hard to miss.

Vernon Dursley was wearing a suit which, had he been there to see it, would have made Marius wince. The tailoring was poor, although with that frame, Caroline was not inclined to blame the tailor. Or could it be shop-brought? His wife - a woman who, quite frankly, looked mean – clutched his elbow and stuck her nose in the air. She couldn't carry off the look.

Caroline shook her head, and went back to the matter in hand. The two boys who followed the Dursleys were also a sorry sight. Caroline knew that she was guilty of spoiling Maia; she would be the first to admit it. But there was a difference between spoiling and completely and utterly ruining a child. The other boy appeared to suffer from the opposite affliction, and her heart lurched.

_That poor, poor child._

She remembered how the family had fumed upon receipt of the return letter. Of course, they had written it to portray Caroline as a lonely old woman, looking for family, with the implicit hint that they would find their way into her will. However, she had not expected the response to be _quite_ so vulgar and obvious. They must have had pound signs lighting up their eyes with every word they wrote. It was disgusting. They were clearly willing to take advantage of a vulnerable woman, and that spoke volumes.

And the way they had written about their 'troubled' nephew.

_St. Brutus' School For Incurably Criminal Boys._

She was not personally acquainted with young Mr. Potter, but he had fought in the Chamber of Secrets to help his friends, and had, by Maia's own admission, sought to defend her in the Shrieking Shack only a few short weeks ago. No, he was _not_ a criminal boy. _They_ were the criminals.

Still, everything was ready, and in place...

...

Vernon Dursley prided himself on his sharp eyes and nose. He was a business man, after all, and a good one. He could sniff out a deal a mile off, and he clocked the spinster Miss. Courthay at a hundred paces.

She was sitting alone, eagerly looking out of the window. Her hair was completely white, and set in the soft curls favoured back in the 1940s. Dressed in a tweed suit with a pale pink blouse, fastened at the neck with a broach that was well over a century old, she was the image of a sweet but neglected old lady.

This would be easy.

Of course, it would probably require a time commitment on their part, but it would do Dudley good to mix with this sort, and Petunia would enjoy having her around for tea and so on.

He smiled broadly and extended his hand in greeting, "Miss. Courthay? It's a pleasure to meet you."

She smiled, excitement lighting up her whole face, "Mr. Dursley? Oh, I assure you, the pleasure is all mine. It's so very good of you, to take the time to meet with me."

"Not at all, not at all. Yours is the generation which built our fine nation! Please, allow me to introduce my family."

He gestured to Petunia, who stepped forward with glee. She even dipped a curtsey as she shook Caroline's hand.

"And these are my boys," she simpered, pulling them forwards by their collars, "my pride and joy, both of them. This is Dudley, and of course, our sweet Harry."

Harry stepped forwards slowly, shaking her hand. He frowned for a moment when they made eye contact, but said nothing. Caroline had worried that he would recognise her and ruin the ruse (and they couldn't have warned him in advance, though she and Sirius had both wanted to, in case he started to think he was getting a new home, and inadvertently broke the wards) but he had only ever seen her from a distance, and didn't seem to recall her now.

They made idle chit chat as they waited for the tea and cakes to arrive.

"So, Dudley goes to Smeltings, you say?"

Vernon nodded, "Yes, it was my old school, a family tradition, and I couldn't let it fall to the side and send him somewhere closer."

Petunia stroked Dudley's hair. He jerked away and Vernon kicked him under the table. He missed and inadvertently hit Harry, who yelped. Petunia sighed, as though this were an indication of Harry's 'troubles'.

Patting Dudley's large arm, she said "I wanted to have both my boys close to home, but, Vernon knows best, I suppose..." She batted her eyelashes at him adoringly – looking like a model from a washing-up liquid advertisement from the 1950s. And it was plainly an act.

Caroline cringed. Did they think that she was _dinosaur_? Naturally, she had never worked and had generally followed Marius around where his business took him, but she was perfectly capable of making a decision and knowing her own mind. It was actually rather offensive that they saw her in that light, and that they were so eager for her money that Petunia Dursley would openly deny her own autonomous intellect...

She smiled, "Yes, I have always believed that a man really ought to be a man in a relationship. It's such a shame that young women these days don't see that anymore."

Her smiled widened when she heard a crack a few tables down, and was fairly certain that Cassiopeia had snapped her cup in indignation.

Petunia simpered again.

Caroline turned to Harry, "And Harry goes to St. Brutus'? Do you like it there?"

Harry looked up suddenly, surprised at being addressed. "Oh, yes. It's great. They really help us work through our... various issues."

"How marvellous." She turned to Petunia, "And you took him in, no questioned asked? Oh, that really is just so dear of you."

Petunia dipped her head, "There was nothing else I could do, poor lamb. My sister... well, my sister fell in with a bad lot. And I always felt so guilty, I felt as though I ought to have protected her better, or helped her. And then, well, she _had_ to marry Potter," she raised both her eyebrows in order to convey the true crudeness of her statement, which Caroline knew to be a lie, and which was hardly the be all and end all of a woman's existence anyway. Also, Caroline wondered if she should point out that if Petunia truly loved and pitied her late sister, she would not tell _a total stranger_ intimate details of her personal life in the hope of securing some financial reward! Instead, Caroline let the odious woman continue, "and... he drank too much. Oh, I just... I just wish she had never gotten in that car with him..." she dabbed her eyes on a handkerchief.

Caroline, however, was watching the glass rattle in front of Harry.

"Be careful, Mr. Potter, if you carry on like that a certain magical Ministry might come." She said lightly.

She revelled in the slack-jawed expressions on the Dursley's faces. The blonde boy even cried out, and appeared to suddenly sit on his hands.

"Yes, Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley, I am afraid that I was not entirely honest with you, although as our deceit has been mutual, you can hardly reproach me for it. My maiden name was indeed Courthay – and the family history is truly illustrious – but I did, in fact, marry. My husband was Marius Black, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and my daughter, Maia Violetta, is a classmate of young Mr. Potter. Tell me, when you decided to lie about his school, did you consider that you were making a mockery of young boys who actually are ill or suffering in some way, and have to attend such institutions? Yes, _that _really does reflect rather poorly on you both, doesn't it?"

They both made to stand up.

"Really, I suggest you sit down. My family is _not_ a family you want to upset, on neither the muggle nor the magical side."

She arched her neck and drew herself up before continuing.

"Mr. Potter is, in fact, related to my family through his great-grandmother Lucretia Black. Now, don't look so hopeful, I am not about to remove Mr. Potter from your care. It is imperative, however distasteful, that you remain his guardians. But he will _not_ be leaving with you today. From now on, if he is amenable, Mr. Potter will spend the first three weeks of his summer holiday with you, but he will then come to us. In the time that he is in your care, you are _not_ to use him as unpaid domestic service. You _will_ accept him with civility and good grace into your home, and you _will_ treat him as he ought to be. During the Christmas and Easter holidays, he in more than welcome to stay with us, or make his own arrangements."

She paused to sip her tea, waiting for the explosion that was clearly about to come from the puce-faced Vernon Dursley.

"Have I made myself clear?"

It came.

Vernon Dursley stood up, jabbing a finger towards Caroline's face.

"Now, you see here you stupid old hag-"

At that moment, a number of things happened.

First, the glass in front of Harry exploded, as he jumped up and made to push Vernon away from Caroline.

Second, Dudley let out a shriek and dived under the table, knocking over his chair and, consequently, and unsuspecting waitress.

Third, Vernon Dursley twitched slightly and fell silent.

Fourth, Cassiopeia was suddenly stood behind him, her face thunderous.

Harry remembered that look well from the Chamber of Secrets. Although nobody in the tea room was likely able to see, Harry could tell that she had her wand pressed into the base of his skull. "I suggest, in the strongest terms, Dursley, that you do not finish that sentence, and never again address my sister-in-law in such a manner. I shall not threaten you with _particular _consequences. I would not want to hinder my creativity." She hissed, her lips curled.

All the blood drained from his face, and he slowly sat back down into his seat.

The waitress politely pretended as though nothing had happened, and Petunia coaxed Dudley out from under the table and back into his seat. Cassiopeia turned to Harry with a look in her eye he recognised as approval, and inclined her head.

"Good day, Mr. Potter."

Then, completely unannounced, Maia and Sirius bounded over, laden with shopping bags and looking entirely too pleased with themselves.

It struck Caroline as rather odd, then, to see her daughter in muggle clothing. Granted, it was clothing Caroline had chosen and she knew that Maia appeared to have walked out of the 1940s with her heavy woollen skirt, crisp blouse, cardigan and long socks, but still, they were muggle clothes.

Maia sat down in the chair next to her, and Sirius dragged one over.

"Oh goody." Said Maia, grinning widely and clearly enjoying her allotted role and character. "Sirius and I have just been shopping. It was such a treat to do it the _muggle_ way, though _magic_ shops do have their advantages." She smirked as the Dursley's flinched in unison. "And we thought Harry might like some nice new things for when we get back to the _mansion_ after this."

The Dursley's eyes widened at they read the labels on the smart shopping bags.

_Selfridges_

_Harrods_

_Harvey Nichols_

They had spent more in one morning than Mr. Dursley would make in a month.

"So," said Caroline, also smiling, "do we have an arrangement? Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned to Sirius, who nodded at him and smiled.

And Harry, struck by a sudden jolt of inspiration, turned to the Dursleys, "Oh, I'm remiss. Aunt Petunia, I should introduce you to my Godfather Sirius Black. He was a very good friend of your sister and brother-in-law."

Petunia turned to Sirius and paled, and Vernon started to splutter. Though as Cassiopeia's wand was still pressing into his bloated skin, he didn't dare to talk.

Harry smiled, "Of course, you must recognise him from the television. He recently got out of Azkaban, what was it you were imprisoned for again?"

Sirius shrugged and folded his hands behind his head, "Oh, for killing the odd muggle, or two, or thirteen."

Maia inclined her head to the Dursleys, "Oh, don't be concerned, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. Sirius has nothing on some of our other relatives. He's perfectly harmless. It was Araminta Mulifula who wanted to re-introduce muggle hunting, wasn't it?"

Sirius nodded sagely, turning to Vernon with a hungry glint in his eye.

"_Re-introduce?_" squeaked Petunina.

"Yes, rather barbaric, wouldn't you say?" said Caroline, "Now, back to the matter in hand, do we have an agreement?"

The Dursleys's nodded.

"And Mr. Potter?"

Harry grinned, "Definitely."

...


	10. Forever

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Nine_ - Forever_

They group appeared after a number of 'pops' in the largest hallway Harry had ever seen outside of Hogwarts, and once the nausea of his first apparation had passed, he quickly began to wonder where they actually were, and when they were going to the Black's house.

Thirty seconds later, he realised that this _was_ their house. And, approximately four seconds after that, he wished he could see the look on Aunt Petunia's face if she ever realised this.

Mrs. Black had used words to the effect of 'snug' and 'cosy' to describe it while they were waiting to be collected for the next round of apparition, after Maia and the numerous shopping bags, so he had discounted Black's mention of a 'mansion'.

He supposed, now, that it was a matter of experience and perception.

"So," continued Caroline, and Harry looked up realising that he ought to have been paying attention to her, "I really hope that you'll be happy here, Harry. I do very much want you to look at this as a home, not simply a guest..."

Sirius walked over a messed up his hair, "Oh, Prongslet will be right at home in no time. I needed some male company, I was starting to feel hen-pecked."

Cassiopeia, Caroline and Maia glared at him, and he cringed back.

"Prongslet?" asked Harry.

"You don't like it?"

"I don't mind... I've just never heard it before."

Sirius felt his heart sink, but knew that it shouldn't. Goodness, if _Maia_ couldn't remember ever being Annie, why would Harry remember being Prongslet? They had been little more than babies. But he'd make it up to them now.

"Well, your dad was Prongs, so when you were born, we nicknamed you Prongslet. Well, Moony, your dad and I did." Neither of them mentioned Pettigrew, "Your mum always hated it. She was worried it would stick and she'd end up walking down Diagon Alley calling for 'Prongslet' all the time and being laughed at."

Harry smiled, "So did my mum name me then?"

Sirius felt his heart lurch, and fought back the urge to turn on his heel and go and hex the Dursleys' into oblivion. "Nah, well, Henry's an old Potter name that's been used for centuries. Your dad wanted that one, but your mum liked Harry and they thought that it was a compromise and close enough. If you were a girl they were going to call you Rose."

"Really?"

He nodded, "Your mum liked flowers, and it went with her family traditions."

Maia looked away from the pair of them, glancing at the various statues and portraits. It seemed so easy for them to just slide into friendship and conversation. For her and Sirius, it just felt stilted and formal. Still, she was making an effort to call him Sirius, and think of him as Sirius, rather than Mr. Black. And he really was trying to call her Maia, and she had to give him the credit for that. And that couldn't be easy, when he had always thought of her as Annie before.

And at some point, she thought she ought to apologise for calling it common and vulgar. It wasn't to her taste, but he had clearly liked it, and it wasn't _that _bad.

She wondered if they found it so easy because they were both Gryffindors, or both men, or just those types of people who could fall into friendships that had seemingly lasted a lifetime in a few minutes.

But today had been good with Sirius. They had had fun choosing things for Pot-_Harry_, Cousin Harry, and had made conversation, and it had been rather nice overall. And watching Cassiopeia threaten Mr. Dursley...

It was all about taking small steps in the right direction, just as mother had said.

"Right, that's enough. Maia, show Cousin Harry to his room and then put on some proper clothes. That outfit is completely unseemly on you. Show him around and make sure you're both dressed and ready for dinner on time."

Sirius laughed and tried to hide it with a cough, "Is that your idea of a welcome, Cassiopeia?"

She raised an eyebrow, "I have things to do which do not involve standing in the hallway all afternoon. So, run along, children."

They made to leave.

"Wait!"

They paused, mid-step, as Caroline handed over a few of the shopping bags. "I thought these might be of use. I'll have Trixie bring the rest of them along for you." She paused, "And just out of interest, how much did you two spend?"

Maia chewed her lip and Sirius looked away.

"What aren't you two telling me?"

Maia tried not to laugh, "Well, you had to meet the Dursleys and act muggle, and Aunt Cassiopeia insisted on staying to keep an eye on them, and well, neither Sirius nor I really knew the galleon to pound conversion rate, and Aunt Cassiopeia just gave us that plastic thing from Gringotts – the debit card – which was linked to one of the day accounts..."

"So you have absolutely no idea." She finished.

"Not a clue." Said Sirius cheerfully. "I think we did good though."

Caroline rolled her eyes, "Very well, off you go. I'm glad you both had fun, at least."

...

Harry found himself sitting on a large bed, laden with cushions and an extra blanket. He had a bookcase, a chest of drawers, a desk, a sofa... This room had to be the same size as the Dursley's living room. He'd always known, on an intellectual level, that Malfoy and Black and their lot were filthy, stinking rich, but seeing it first hand was something else.

For example, he'd been told that if this room didn't fulfil his needs, he was more than welcome to select another.

And Black... _Maia_, had been completely serious.

He wasn't sure if he should be pleased or worried at this turn of events. He trusted Sirius, and liked him. He was the closest link that he, Harry, had to his father. And just to hear anecdotes about how his parents had named him...

Yet the _Blacks_ had come and decided to take him in? He supposed they were family, which was what had been said. _Cousin Harry_. And Mrs. Black did, indeed, seem very kind in a fussy, grandmotherly sort of way. And she really had tormented the Dursleys, which had been wonderful to watch. But still... it was odd. He'd gotten used to the knowledge that he was stuck with the Dursleys, and while he didn't mind change... He didn't know how to say it, but it was odd.

And he had gotten used to thinking of the Weasleys as his second family. He didn't want that to change.

But did it have to? He'd spent great swathes of all his holidays with the Weasleys. He could still do that. It might be easier, in fact, given that he had now moved from the muggle world to their magical one. And the Blacks were, apparently, his actual family, however distant that may be. And Sirius was his Godfather, and Harry wanted to stay with him...

And they might be able to find a way to help Remus.

Though the situation with Remus had left him sorely tempted to cancel his Prophet subscription.

He went over to the long mirror and nervously tried to flatten his hair. It made no difference. He jumped when a 'crack' filled the air and a House Elf, another pile of shopping bags, and all his school things from the Dursley's house appeared. Out of instinct, he backed away.

Trixie tilted her head, "Is something being the matter with Master Harry?"

Harry swallowed, "No, no, I'm fine thank you. Thank you for bringing my things... how did you get them?" He pointed at his trunk and broomstick.

"The muggles is not noticing Trixie."

"Your name's Trixie?"

"Yes, Master Harry. And Trixie is pleased to be meeting you. You is more than welcome to be calling me and Twinky whenever you is wanting anything. We is liking to make people happy."

He swallowed again, "There are two of you?"

"Yes, there is being Twinky and me."

Harry looked the Elf up and down, she seemed normal. Not like she was about to try and 'maim or seriously injure' him for his own good. "Well, it's lovely to meet you. And thank you again for my things."

Trixie smiled, "Goodbye Master Harry."

He turned back to the mirror, trying to push his hair down. At least he looked smarter in his new clothes; it was nice not having to wear Dudley's hand-me-downs.

"I think you're fighting a losing battle."

He turned to see Maia standing in the doorway, smirking and dressed in dark green day robes. To a muggle, she looked like something out of the early twentieth century.

He shrugged, "I know. It's never gone flat."

"Don't worry about it, the Potters are infamous for their hair. I've seen the portraits."

"Really? Where?"

She tilted her head, "They're dotted around the properties. My Great Aunt Dorea married Charlus Potter, you see."

He smiled, "I've never heard about them, what were they like?"

She bit her lip, "She was Cassiopeia's younger sister. We don't really talk about her."

"Why?"

"I don't know. She just doesn't come up. I can show you the portraits at some point though, if you like."

He nodded, "Thank you."

She looked around the room, "May I come in?"

"Oh, yes, of course, sorry."

She tried not to stick her nose in the air, and made her way over to the sofa. She sat down, smoothed her skirts, and crossed her ankles over to one side. Harry looked around the room, and went back to his perch on the bed. "This is odd."

She inclined her head, "I agree."

"So we're living together?"

"Yes, and I'm to call you Cousin Harry."

"Am I supposed to call you Cousin Maia?"

"That's the general idea."

"What about Malfoy? I'm not meant to call him Cousin Draco now, am I?"

She raised an eyebrow, "He actually is your fourth cousin, once removed." She paused, "Anyway, as we're meant to live together, I feel we ought to try and make some form of progress towards a civil acquaintance."

Harry very much wished that he could escape, because this was not what he expected. This was far too complicated and convoluted. There was too much scope for interpretation. He wasn't sure if she was actually being nice, or threatening him. The line was too fine. He preferred the Weasleys, and Sirius, where conversations and life felt much simpler and more straight-forward. "Ok?"

She nodded, and actually smiled, "I'm very pleased you agree."

_So she was being nice?_

"What did you think I was going to do?" he asked.

"I honestly don't know. Gryffindors generally confuse me."

"You get on well with Hermione."

"Hermione's lovely, but she still confuses me most of the time."

"I think you confuse her too."

"Well then, mutual confusion seems to work well for us."

He grinned. He'd been on the receiving end of her quick tongue a number of times, but it was nice to see that she could actually use it to be friendly. It was a bit disconcerting, like everything else that had happened so far that day, but nice. "You know, if you're worried about the Dragon Incident, I'm over it. And we survived the Shack together, so I reckon we'll manage to spend the rest of the summer together just fine." He offered, in the interest of building rather than burning bridges.

She smiled again, although it was a little tight, "That's very sensible."

Harry smoothed out the bed covers in front of him. "So, what are the holidays here like?"

...

_And so there it was. _

_The proverbial olive branch had been extended and accepted. _

_Not only had the tide changed, but it had changed forever..._

...


	11. The First Day Of Forever

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Ten_ – The First Day of Forever_

Finally, that night, Harry lay down in his new bed, completely and utterly exhausted. He was more mentally and emotionally tired than anything else. It was just _strange_. The whole thing was _strange_. If he stopped to think, he wondered if he ought to be grateful, or sceptical, or nervous, or wary, or happy. But he didn't have time to really do that. He was just constantly struck by the oddity of it all.

He had always thought that the day someone offered him some sort of escape from the Dursleys would be a good day.

But, as he kept on saying, it wasn't. It was just odd.

Maia Black had been a long-standing semi-enemy throughout his time at Hogwarts. Now he was living with her and her family, and she was calling him 'Cousin Harry'. And she was actually being nice about it, or at least, she was trying to be, which he thought counted for quite a bit. 'Nice' was not a word or a personality trait which Maia Black seemed to cultivate or admire – at least not in public.

And he was living _with her family_. Who had been introduced to him as a bunch of Death Eaters! Yet, there was nothing Death-Eaterish about Mrs. Black, least of all that she was a muggle! And Professor Black was unfriendly, and intimidating, but remained very much as she had while at Hogwarts, civil but aloof. And he was reassured by the fact he had personally witness her declare her eternal opposition to Voldemort...

And, suddenly, he had a Godfather who was happy to tell him everything he could about his family.

He could _hear_ about them. The photograph album from Hagrid had, for years, been the closest he could get to them. That album now had pride of place on his new bookshelf. And he was grateful for the album – always would be – but now he could hear the stories behind the pictures. And it was nice, to have that link, and that feeling of family. It was a feeling he had never got from the Dursleys, in all the years he had spent there.

But it wasn't just the people who were odd, it was the house and the way they lived.

He hadn't realised, for example, that people still dressed for dinner.

And ate with solid silver spoons.

Which they had all used rather slowly – without saying anything, of course – so that he could follow them properly through the ridiculous array of cutlery throughout the table.

Why did people need a special knife to eat fish?

And it was odd that they treated all of this as if it were completely normal, and couldn't imagine anything else.

Sirius had pulled faces at him, when the women weren't looking. It had been nice, actually. There was a camaraderie behind it that had made him feel like a child, a wanted child.

But even before dinner, when Maia had shown him around the house, had been like nothing he could have imagined before. Just the sheer scale of the land, the amount of it, was ridiculous. He just kept thinking 'why'? Why would anyone want or need all of this? And Maia had _apologised_ that they couldn't offer more. Apparently, and she had said this in a tone which strongly indicated that she didn't want to talk about it, the house she had grown up in had been of far grander proportions, but they had _down-sized_ after Marius Black had died.

_Down-sized_.

Still, here there were orchards and a lake, and field upon field that he couldn't wait to soar over on his Firebolt, if he was allowed, and ever got over this all-consuming sense of weirdness.

That was the thought he clung to as he rolled over, closed his eyes, and let his tired brain finally drift off to sleep.

...

Harry was pleased to discover that he wasn't expected to 'dress' for breakfast, and that he wasn't supposed to cook it either. Caroline had also very politely told him that he didn't need to clear away the plates. Maia had looked at him like he'd gone mad, and as though she'd never seen anyone do such a thing at a dining table before.

Then he realised that she probably hadn't, and decided not to think about it. He added to the list of weird, but not exactly bad, things that he was discovering at Black Rose House.

So, after than minor faux pas, and after summoning up his Gryffindor courage to talk before addressed at the table, Harry asked if they knew what had happened to Professor Lupin. Professor Black's face took on a very vicious look, but before she could answer, Mrs. Black told him that they were currently hiding Remus at _another_ house they owned in London, and that he was perfectly safe from the Ministry. Apparently they could visit him if Harry wanted to. H said yes, and tried not to look at Professor Black as he did so.

Just as he was wondering what he was going to do with his day without chores – perhaps he could take his Firebolt out, or talk to Sirius some more, or actually do his homework – Professor Black cut through his musings.

"Your school reports were both owled to me this morning, and I want you to both come to the library as soon as you've finished breakfast. I think we all need to have a _very serious_ discussion."

Harry's heart sank.

Firstly, he hadn't realised that school reports were sent out, but then it didn't surprise him. The Dursleys had probably burned them before even opening the letters.

And secondly, Bla- _Cousin Maia_ would be fine. She studied almost as much as Hermione, which meant he'd been here for less than twenty four hours and Professor Black was already cross with him.

...

The library at Black Rose House was not as big as Hogwarts, but was decorated in a far more luxurious manner. Harry wondered if Hermione knew about this place, and imagined how jealous she would be if she did. Rather thanhaving a number of study tables like Howarts, this library had one large and ornate mahogany table in the middle of the room, with bookcases lining the walls around it. A chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. There were a few armchairs as well, dotted here and there, for more relaxed reading.

When Harry and Maia walked in, Cassiopeia was seated at the table, and indicated for them to sit opposite her. She said nothing until they had sat down properly.

"I should begin, firstly, by saying that I am not angry, I am merely disappointed." She paused and turned to Harry, "Mr. Potter... _Cousin Harry_, I do not direct this towards you. We shall address your studies from a clean slate, as the muggles say, and as long as you diligently apply yourself in the future, I shall not comment on the past. You are, after all, of the House of Potter, not Black, and I cannot make orders of you, only offer guidance." She then turned to Maia, "Maia, however, does not have that luxury. You are aware of my expectations, are you not?"

Harry frowned at the pale look on Maia's face as she nodded, "I am aware, Aunt Cassiopeia."

"Good, I had wondered if you had forgotten. Let us consider this year to have been an accident, due to stress, we shall say, and that next year, you will resume the grades which are expected of you."

"Yes, Aunt Cassiopeia."

"Very good. Here." She placed a piece of parchment in front of them both.

Harry glanced down to look at his own.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am writing to inform you of your exam results for the academic year 1993-1994._

_Pass Grades: O – Outstanding, E – Exceeds Expectations, A – Acceptable._

_Fail Grades: P – Poor, D – Dreadful, T – Troll._

_Results_

_Astronomy, A_

_Charms, E_

_Herbology, E_

_History of Magic, A_

_Potions, A_

_Transfiguration, E_

_Defence Against The Dark Arts, O_

_Care of Magical Creatures, O_

_Divination, A_

_I am delighted to inform you that you placed first in Gryffindor for the following class:_

_Defence Against The Dark Arts_

_I am delighted to inform you that you placed first in your year group for the following class:_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress._

Feeling really rather happy, and not quite able to still the curiosity in his belly, he also stole a look at the parchment in front of Maia.

_Dear Miss. Black,_

_I am writing to inform you of your exam results for the academic year 1993-1994._

_Pass Grades: O – Outstanding, E – Exceeds Expectations, A – Acceptable._

_Fail Grades: P – Poor, D – Dreadful, T – Troll._

_Results_

_Astronomy, O_

_Charms, O_

_Herbology, O_

_History of Magic, O_

_Potions, O_

_Transfiguration, A_

_Defence Against The Dark Arts, E_

_Arithmancy, A_

_Ancient Runes, O_

_Muggle Studies, O_

_I am delighted to inform you that you placed first in Slytherin for the following classes:_

_Astronomy, Herbology, Potions, Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies_

_I am delighted to inform you that you placed first in your year group for the following classes:_

_Potions. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress._

He gulped when he started to realise just how high Professor Black's expectations were. He was also surprised that someone must have actually beaten Hermione in a test, though Bla-_Cousin Maia_ did have the advantage that Snape clearly didn't loathe her as he loathed Hermione.

Cassiopeia stood up and began to pull a series of books from the shelves. Harry leant over and whispered, "I think you did really well."

She looked at him for a moment, with an odd expression on her face. "A Black is never merely 'acceptable'."

He nodded, "Sorry."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault, I should have worked harder."

Cassiopeia turned back to them, placing a stack of books down on the table. "Maia, we shall be concentrating of your Transfiguration and Arithmacy this summer, and the rest of your studies to a lesser extent. I also want you to go back over your Latin, as well as your French now, as it may improve your understanding of spells and your casting." She waved her wand, and a timetable and study plan with reading lists appeared on the table. Maia looked at it and blinked. It was rather a lot. Cassiopeia sniffed, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Maia dipped her head, "Yes, Aunt Cassiopeia." She pulled the books towards her and began to sort through them and study.

Cassiopeia then turned to Harry, "I believe we should concentrate on your Potions and History of Magic. We can cover Divination if you wish, but unless you have some natural magical ability in that area, there really is no point in studying it. Dumbledore really ought to vet students for Seer ability before allowing onto the course, but as that Trelawny woman is teaching it..." she paused and drew herself up, "Yes, well. We shan't talk about that. I was also going to suggest that you learn French, as it may come in useful soon. However, in the long term, you should also learn at least rudimentary Latin and Gobbledegook."

Harry looked back down at his school report and scanned over the grades, "Can I do extra Defence Against the Dark Arts as well?"

"I don't know, _can_ you?"

Harry saw Maia smirk out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, please _may_ I do extra Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"I believe that may be advantageous."

Maia looked up, "May I study extra Potions?"

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow, "I thought you were doing that in your free time?"

Maia blushed, "Yes... well, I wouldn't mind doing it here as well, during lessons. And I'm still teaching myself Gaelic."

"You will follow the study plan assigned to you during your lessons. Acceptability is only one step up from mediocrity, and from that _ruin_."

"Yes, Aunt Cassiopeia."

...

Over the next few days, Harry realised that holidays at Black Rose House were both at once very much like school, but on the other, the best holidays ever. They had to study from nine to four every day, with a break for lunch, and _Aunt Cassiopeia_, as he was now supposed to call her, made them work extremely hard. However, he found that he enjoyed it. He did at least an hour of DADA every day, and Aunt Cassiopeia was also giving them both duelling lessons. So far, _Cousin Maia_ had only gotten the better of him once. She knew more spells, and had caught him off guard with some rather unpleasant hexes, but his reactions, both magical and physical, were much faster.

He had also discovered that when it extended beyond Binns droning on and on about Goblin Wars, History of Magic was rather interesting. Not exactly exciting, but interesting enough to keep his attention for an hour or two. And who was he to turn down the chance to do extra magic outside of school? It certainly beat having his wand locked away, and apparently there was no chance of the Ministry finding out.

Aunt Cassiopeia had been rather affronted by the suggestion:

"_This Ministry does __not__ interfere with the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, __not__ when we helped to found it!"_

His afternoons were spent playing Quidditch with Sirius, and sometimes Maia when she wasn't visiting her Slytherin friends, usually Malfoy, but apparently Tracey Davis lived nearby as well. Overall, things were good, and he now had Top Box seats to the Quidditch World Cup, tomorrow he was going to Diagon Alley, Hermione was feeling better, and he had just sent a letter to Ron trying to explain all of it to him without him thinking that he had lost the plot.

...

_The next morning at the Burrow..._

Ron Weasley sat at the breakfast table, piling bacon and eggs on to the top of his toast. He wondered if he just kept eating whether he would be able to get out of de-gnoming the garden.

His father drank the last dregs of his tea, and stood to kiss their mother goodbye, when a snowy white owl flew through the kitchen window and landed in front of him.

"Harry's written!"

Mrs. Weasley smiled, "Good, I was worried when you hadn't heard from him. I don't like to think of him all alone with those muggles. Make sure you invite him here soon."

"Thanks mum, but what about the World Cup?"

She shook her head, "Tell he can come with us. Actually, tell him he can come with us. He can have my ticket. It doesn't look like Bill's going to turn up now – though I do wish he could at least write. But there you go. And Merlin knows Harry'll enjoy it more than I will, and the poor dear ought to have something good happen to him."

Mr. Weasley kissed her forehead, and she smiled back at him.

Ron quickly pulled off the letter and began to read... "_Merlin's flaming, frolicking pants!_"

Mr. Weasley looked over, visibly perturbed, "Is everything alright? Is Harry alright?"

Ron glanced up from the letter, his eyes wide. "Yes... No... Oh, here, you read it."

Mr. Weasley's eyebrows rose further and further up towards his receding hairline, and Mrs. Weasley could finally take it no longer and snatched the letter from her husband's hands.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? I'm sorry I've not written this week, but, it's all been a bit crazy. I'm not sure how to tell you what's happened, but I guess I'll just have to try and write it all out, and hope you don't think that I've lost it._

_I've left the Dursleys, although this time I didn't run away. Sirius came to get me. I still have to stay there for the start of every summer holiday – I don't really get why, but Dumbledore says so, so it must be important – but for the rest of the time I get to stay with him now. See, that sounds fine, it's now that it gets a bit weird._

_Sirius is living with his family. Apparently, the Healers at St. Mungos didn't want him staying on his own, and he wanted to stay with Maia for obvious reasons, so he's living with the rest of the Blacks. Living with Sirius is brilliant. He tells me all about mum and dad. He said to say he's sorry for losing you your rat, and that he'll replace it if your parents don't mind. Also, I've got news of our favourite furry friend to tell you, so don't worry on that head._

_Maia's mum (adopted mum? I don't know anymore?) is great as well. She's really old, so is more like a grandmother than anything, and she's trying to fatten me up, but she's really nice. Professor Black lives with them too, and she's, well, she hasn't changed one bit since we last saw her. I didn't realise this, but did you know Malfoy's lot all have to study over the holidays? Well, apparently it depends on the parents, but Professor Black makes Maia study every day. Our school reports came the day after I got here, and we've had to have lessons from nine to four every day since then. My brain hurts. I'll tell you about it soon. We have to try and meet up._

_I've not seen Malfoy. Maia goes over to their manor house when she wants to see him. I think she's being diplomatic. She's not that bad. I mean, she's not exactly friendly, but she's alright, I guess. Actually, sometimes I think she's being friendly and I don't notice. She and Professor Black seem a bit strange like that. Though I'm meant to call them 'Aunt Cassiopeia' and 'Cousin Maia' now. Well, they haven't said that I have to, but that's how they introduced themselves. Again, I think it's an example of overly formal kindness which I don't quite get. _

_We went and visited Hermione together. She's doing a lot better, although she she doesn't want you to get a rat. I think she's developed something of a hatred towards all of them. The Healers have said she'll be out in three days. And she said that she's going to the World Cup with your family, is that right? If that's true, then we're all going to be in the Top Box together. The Minister gave the Blacks tickets and Maia, her mum and Sirius are all going. Apparently Mrs. Black – though she says to call her Caroline – doesn't actually like Quidditch, but she didn't want to miss out on something as big as this. Professor Black turned them down. She's got better things to do that make nice to Fudge, apparently. I should warn you and your family though that the Malfoys are going to be there with us. _

_Anyway, write back soon. I really haven't lost it and I really am fine. Apart from the studies. I've never had to work this hard. Imagine if every class at Hogwarts was taught by Professor Black, and then you'll understand._

_See you soon, _

_Harry._

...


	12. For Padfoot

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Eleven_ – For Padfoot_

_Harry_

_We got your letter._

_Mum wants to know if you're absolutely sure you're ok and happy. If you're not, we'll come and get you. If you are fine, then we're glad that you're happy, and are well shot of the Dursleys. I did say to them that the Blacks couldn't be all bad, after the Shack and the Chamber and what not, and they agree, sort of. Anyway, we just want to be sure._

_Write back soon – Mum's driving us all nuts worrying._

_Ron._

...

_Dear Ron,_

_I really am fine. Promise._

_I'm actually happy. _

_Mrs. Black has written a letter for your parents, which I'm sending with Hedwig too._

_Harry._

...

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley,_

_I am writing to reassure you that we have taken Mr. Potter as our ward with only good intentions. His living situation came to our attention, and we saw that it was within our power and influence to rectify it, if only in a small way._

_We assure you that this has all gone through the correct channels with the Minister and Headmaster Dumbledore, and that we have the legal and moral right to take Mr. Potter into our custody. He is a blood relative of our, and the Godson of Mr. Sirius Black, who was his appointed guardian by his deceased parents._

_More than that, I believe that Harry is happy here. I certainly only desire his happiness and welfare. _

_I am given to understand that you, and your family, have made moves in the past to bring Harry into your care. For that you have my admiration. I am also given to understand that your youngest son, Ronald Weasley, has a particular friendship with Mr. Potter. I do hope that we can arrange a meeting for them over the course of the holidays. I am sure the young people would appreciate such a thing._

_I would also like to express my gratitude towards your aforementioned youngest son, for his exemplary conduct during the events at the end of the last school year. _

_With kindest regards,_

_Caroline Black. _

...

"Remus..." _They needed to talk about this. He couldn't just sit there like that, day in, day out..._

"Dora, don't start."

She shook her head slowly and listlessly dropped the tea towel down on the counter. "This is the 1990s, not the 1890s. I shouldn't have to placate you."

"I don't need placating." He snapped back. His newspaper had long ago been discarded.

**FULL MOON APPROACHES: MINISTRY URGES EXRTA CAUTION, LUPIN REMAINS AT LARGE**

"Look, I do know it's hard for you."

"You _don't_ know anything about it."

She clenched her hands on the work surface, "Then _tell_ me."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Then for Helga's sake talk to Sirius."

"He doesn't want to see me."

She took a deep breath, "You're the one who decided that, not him."

"He hasn't been here since the argument."

"When _I_ threw him out, and he went off and got blind drunk. Perhaps you ought to go and check on him? He might understand how you feel, after everything he's been through."

Remus stood up abruptly, and walked out the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind him. The old hag screamed, and Tonks buried her head in her hands, crying.

_Did it have to be this hard?_

...

That morning, Caroline announced at breakfast, much to Cassiopeia's dismay, that lessons were cancelled.

"Their school lists came today."

"Can't _you_ just go and get their things? Maia can't have grown enough to need new robes and we can just measure Mr. Potter ourselves."

"_Cousin Harry_ and Maia will both be needing dress robes this year."

Maia's face lit up, while Harry frowned. "Dress robes?"

Caroline inclined her head, "Yes, dear, dress robes. Oh, I do hope they want chaperones. I want to see you and Draco dance again Maia, you make such an adorable pair."

Maia raised an eyebrow, "Have you been talking to Aunt Narcissa?" Her tone was dry.

Her mother smiled serenely, "I don't know _what_ you're talking about, darling."

Sirius looked between them both, "Am I missing something?"

They shared a glance. "No." They said in unison.

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes, "_It's_ not happening, and _that's_ final. Anyway, I shall permit the children to go to Diagon Alley-"

"-they were going to go again at some point anyway-" replied Caroline.

"-I know there's something I'm missing-"

Cassiopeia cut Sirius off. "-Oh, _very well_. I suppose I shall have to spend the morning contacting a dance tutor for _Cousin_ _Harry_."

"Dance tutor?"

"Did the Dursleys teach you to waltz?"

"Er, no."

"Then you shall be having a dancing lesson before you return to school. Dancing is a form of diplomacy."

Maia tilted her head, "There's something you know that _we_ don't, isn't there? Why do we need dress robes, and why would we need diplomacy? Well," she paused, re-evaluating what she had just said, "why would Cousin Harry need diplomacy. Everyone loves him. He's the Boy-Who-Lived."

Cassiopeia smirked, "I'm sure I'll see fit to inform you in due course."

...

"If you will just follow me, I shall escort you to your vaults." Said the Goblin, bowing stiffly.

As they began to follow, Caroline paused. "If you'll excuse me, I'll wait here. I don't feel that my aging constitution is quite able to cope with the Gringotts carts." She turned to Maia, "Will you be alright without me?"

"Of course, mother."

"Good, and I can trust you Sirius, to ensure they retrieve a _sensible_ amount of gold?" She tried to ask the question lightly, but in truth, she did not like the idea of sending the children down there alone, with only Sirius. She couldn't help herself, but she also couldn't face the carts.

She was seventy nine, after all.

...

They went to the Maia's school vault first, where she retrieved a large pile of gold. If she needed new dress robes to wear in front of the whole school, she wanted to have the best. It was that simple. Besides, if she had taken too much, it could be easily topped up. Harry was more circumspect in his vault, asking if Maia's estimation of the cost of dress robes was accurate. He was pleased to find that, unless prices had risen exponentially while Sirius was in Azkaban, he would not need to be spending that much.

They clambered back into the cart - Maia was starting to look a bit green after a few minutes – and then took a sudden dive down into the lower areas. Harry flinched when a burst of flame shot over his head and Sirius laughed. "Nothing like a Gringotts ride, heh!"

They went to the Black vaults next, as Maia insisted that she wanted to go through the family jewels, having decided it was time to start expanding upon her collection. Sirius grimaced as he watched her flit through the family vault, and arranged with the Goblin that they could come back and collect everything she chose at the end of the day.

He turned to Harry and ruffled his already messy hair, "What do you say, kiddo? Do you want some jewels from the Potter vault? Feeling the need to bribe a date or anything?"

Harry frowned, "I've got another vault?"

Sirius let out a puff of air, "You must do – Prongs always did. I don't know what sort of state it was in, but the Potters are an old family. You're bound to have one down here somewhere." He paused, "So, what do you say? We could have a look and see what you've got?"

Harry nodded, and Sirius turned to the Goblin. "Would you be willing to allow us the privilege of viewing the Potter family vault?"

The Goblin's face was unpleasant, "I can take you to the Potter vault."

Somewhat reluctantly on Maia's part, which had nothing to do with the gold left behind, they got back into the cart and set off once more. After many more sharp twists, turns and sudden drops, they came to an abrupt halt. "This is it. Will we be making any more _unscheduled_ stops?"

Sirius laughed affably and shook his head, and again they climbed out. By this point, Harry was also taking a number of deep, slow breaths. The Goblin walked over and ran a finger down the entrance to the vault, which slowly parted.

The Goblin stepped back as the other three walked inside.

Maia's stomach dropped, "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry."

...

Caroline sat in the waiting room, watching as the various families went past. By this point, she recognised the Weasleys and smiled at them politely, even inclining her head in the direction of the youngest son. He was a very brave, very resilient young man. And the rest of the family certainly had their hearts in the right places, if she knew nothing else about them.

She tapped her foot as they took far longer to return than expected, although she was under no illusions as to what must be taking them so long. No doubt Maia had decided to avail herself of the family jewels. Caroline smiled; Maia was growing up so very quickly. She would have to go through her own jewels at some point, and find a few pieces that Maia might like to wear. Nothing too heavy – she was still young – but something tasteful and elegant.

Just then, her musings were interrupted by the approach of two teenagers – who looked to be on better terms than they ever had before – and a grim-faced Sirius.

"_What happened?"_

...

"_Oh Harry, I'm so sorry."_

Sirius and Maia looked around the vault, thanking Godric and Salazar respectively that it was not completely empty. There was a sizeable stack of galleons and sickles, about the same amount as in Harry's school vault, and a large chest which, when opened, revealed a collection of family jewels and heirlooms.

But this was not the fortune of which Prongs' had boasted throughout their early school years.

Sirius scanned the room, found what he was looking for, and began to flick through the family ledger. The land was gone, as were the properties. The only thing which remained, thank Merlin for small mercies, was the Potter Manor. Even the cottage at Godric's Hollow had been 'appropriated' by the Ministry for the creation of a national memorial.

Maia was now going through the jewels, with great diligence and care, while Harry looked on. Sirius watched, and smiled, as she explained the different crests and symbols on them. Sirius found himself beginning to concentrate on the pile of gold.

"You know, Prongslet, it's really not that bad. You've still got the manor, and the best of the jewels, and that pile of gold isn't to be sniffed at. I mean, you'll have to work, but add the interest on that to any earnings and you'll be able to live well enough."

Harry looked around the vault. To him, it all looked fine. He didn't want all the things the Blacks had – he was perfectly happy to have a knife, a fork and a spoon and be done with it – and he was more than grateful for this little bit of family history.

Sirius turned back to the ledger and saw a letter appear.

_For Padfoot_

With an awful feeling that he knew exactly what it was, and what it was about, he picked it up and slipped it into the pocket of his robes.

Maia sighed, "Oh, but Harry, I'm so sorry, I really am."

Harry shook his head, and went back to holding up a silver platter to the light, carefully studying the engraved crest. "I can hardly miss what I've never had, and I've always been more than happy with my school vault."

"Oh, but still."

Harry turned to Sirius, his face serious, "I'm guessing Dad spent it on the war, didn't he?"

Sirius nodded, "It looks that way, kiddo."

"Good." He said firmly, and Sirius' heart swelled with pride. That was James' boy.

Maia frowned, "But _all_ of it? Should we ask the Goblin if there's something more, something we're missing?"

Sirius pushed a hand through his hair, "I don't think there is."

Harry put the platter down, "I'm glad that Dad spent it to help with the war. I would do the same in an instant. Wouldn't you?"

Maia frowned and looked at the chest, thinking for far longer than either Sirius or Harry had expected her to, or wanted her to.

"I would certainly help, of that I am sure, and I would be generous. I would give over the properties for use, and I would willingly donate gold. But I don't... I don't think I could give it all up." Harry's mouth opened, but Maia held a hand up to stop him, "I just, I don't think it would be my right. It's not _just _the wealth, it's the history. It's all been a part of the House of Black for a thousand years. I don't think that I would have the right to put an end to it."

"But what if Voldemort-" Maia flinched, "-was going to win? Wouldn't you give it up then? What's the point of having the gold if he's won?"

Maia looked up at Harry, "Is it very wrong that I hope it never comes to that? And that I never have to make that choice?"

Harry sighed, stood, and offered her a hand to help her up. He smiled as she pulled herself to her feet, "Well, I hope it never comes to that either. And I _suppose_ you can't help being a calculating Slytherin."

Her eyes flashed for a moment, but she recognised the olive branch again and smiled in return, "And I _suppose_ you can't help being an overly heroic Gryffindor, with no sense of self-preservation."

"Not a trace."

Across the room, Sirius smiled. It was sad, though, and he didn't like the letter in his pocket. He could feel the weight of it, like a stone. He hung back as the two teenagers exited and went to the cart. He took one last look around before following them.

_Good for you, Prongs. Good for you._

_And you would be so proud of your son._

...

Caroline stood as they approached. He tried to school his features, but Sirius had never mastered the art in the same way his cousins – and now his daughter – had, and Caroline saw straight through him.

"_What happened?"_

He shook his head, but indicated towards the two teenagers. They seemed _friendly_ rather than _civil_. Caroline smiled. She had worried that he and Maia would always remain on polite terms, would not really connect, and so the poor boy would go from being unwanted in one home, to a guest in another, and never feel as though he truly belonged anywhere. Taking Sirius' expression to mean that now was not the best moment to discuss whatever was troubling him, she turned to Harry and Maia.

"I saw the Weasleys while you were in the vaults, perhaps we'll run into them again later?"

Harry nodded, "It would be good to see Ron."

"Why don't you invite him to visit?"

"Ca-_May_ I?"

Caroline was genuinely surprised, and it showed. And not by his self-correction. "Of course, Black Rose House should, at least, be _something_ of a home to you. Of course you can invite your friends." She looked off to the side, caught by a sudden fancy, "We ought to throw a garden party, before you go back to school... Oh, and we can take the boats out on the lake. The Malfoys will come, of course, and the Davies' are nearby. We ought to invite the Greengrass' too – oh, and the Macmillans, do you think they'll bring the dear Finch-Fletchley boy? It will have to wait until after the World Cup, but I do think..." Her voice trailed away.

Sirius made a show of shoving Harry playfully, "Now you've done it, we're doomed."

They then went shopping for schoolbooks, clothes and potion supplies and were just heading towards Fortescue's ice cream parlour when they ran into the Weasleys. Hermione wasn't with them, but Caroline and Mrs. Weasley made polite conversation (Mr. Weasley was at work) and headed towards the ice cream parlour with Percy, Ginny and Maia in tow while the twins, Harry, Ron and Sirius went in search of a replacement pet.

The small matter of the previous 'ownership' of a certain rat remained unspoken.

Mrs. Weasley and Caroline got on surprisingly well – they had a mutual love of children and various anecdotes regarding them, which provided ample conversation to gloss over any other differences – while Percy read a book, not wanting to mix with the children.

Maia turned to Ginny and curtseyed, "I'm Maia Black, I believe you're Ginevra Weasley?"

Ginny bobbed back, "Of course I am, how many other Weasley girls are there?"

"I was only trying to be polite." She all but snapped.

Ginny shrugged, and Maia was pleased Aunt Cassiopeia hadn't joined them. She would have disapproved – most heartily – of this girl. They fell into silence.

"I hear your father works in Muggle Relations, am I right?"

Ginny turned towards her sharply, "Does that bother you?"

Maia raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in the direction of her mother, who was currently placing their orders.

Ginny's blush spread all the way to her roots. "Sorry, instinct." She tried to smile.

Maia regarded the younger girl for a moment. She had a choice; she could cut the girl then and there, or she could carry on and try for a pleasant conversation as best she could. While the temptation to make a cutting remark was very, very strong, she swallowed it down. She had, after all, recently found out that Uncle Lucius could lie about something as big as being a Death Eater, and if he could do that, it did not require any great stretch of the imagination to presume that he had not always been honest about the Weasleys. And, while she had always personally disliked Ronald Weasley, she had also developed a grudging – very grudging – respect for him since the incident in the Shack.

And, the girl had sought defend her father, which was perfectly proper, after all.

And, when all was said and done, the Weasley's _were _a long-standing family. And they were _liked_, even if they were not _respected_. And likability was better than _nothing_.

And her own mother has seen fit to write to the Weasleys, and if she couldn't trust her mother's judgement, whose judgement_ could_ she trust?

So, after a pause which pushed at the boundaries of politeness, she simply inclined her head and said, "I suppose the _general _reputation of my family precedes itself."

Ginny nodded, "It does. I suppose you can't be all bad though. Ron actually said that, you know, after what happened in the Shrieking Shack."

"I didn't know." She paused again, "For what it's worth, I thought your brother was very brave. His leg was broken in two places, was it not?"

Ginny nodded again, more enthusiastically this time, "Yes, that's Ron. Generally useless, but always good in a crisis."

Maia laughed, "That was good."

"Thank you, but it's not original. Bill came up with it after Ron carried me home when I broke _my_ leg falling out of a tree when I was seven."

They were able to continue chatting in that sociable manner until their mothers came back and placed their ice creams in front of them. Mrs. Weasley looked from one girl to another, "You two seem to be getting on surprisingly well." Her tone was suspicious.

Ginny grinned, "Don't worry, Mum. Black's just lured me into a false sense of security with her Slytherin ways. I'm fully expecting her to stab me in the back any moment now."

Maia raised an eyebrow, "Actually, I prefer poison. Much harder to trace."

The girls caught each other's eye and laughed, while their mothers looked on, not sure whether _they_ should laugh or cry.

Half an hour later, the boys showed up with a pair of grinning twins, a disgruntled-looking Ron, and a sheepish Harry. Sirius looked as though he were trying to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes, which were clearly troubled.

Mrs. Weasley took one look at the twins. "What did you do?"

They looked at each other.

"I don't know – what did we do?"

"I'd say we've done lots of things."

"I flossed."

"Did you?"

"Course not!"

"_Boys."_

"_Yes, Mum?"_

She glared at them.

"We _may_ have interfered with Ron's choice of owl."

"A _teensy-weensy_ bit." They held their thumbs and index fingers up together in unison, to demonstrate how teensy-weensy this amount supposedly was.

They grinned unrepentantly.

"What did you do?"

Ron stepped forwards, holding a cage containing a ridiculously small owl, which was flying about so quickly one had to squint in order to see it.

"Those gits brought it over, and it wouldn't leave me alone once is saw me, and then the sales assistant declared the whole thing to be 'adorable'." Ron looked disgusted, "And I got blackmailed into choosing it."

Caroline tilted her head, "It is rather sweet little thing. What have you named it?"

Ron shrugged, "Dunno."

Ginny tilted her head, "How about Arnold? That a cute name."

"I _don't_ want a cute pet."

Maia leant forwards to get a better look, "It looks like a girl to me. I've always liked Morgaine."

"You're a Slytherin." Grumbled George.

"So you would." Continued Fred.

"Double-crossing-"

"-treacherous-"

"-murdering-"

"_Boys_."

"_I_ prefer opportunist." Said Maia archly.

Ginny clapped her hands, "I think Morgaine's a lovely name, and it fits with family tradition."

Ron scowled, "Can I point out it _is _actually a boy?"

Ginny shrugged, "We can always call it Morgy."

The small owl hooted with delight.

"That's settled then."

Ron glared mutinously at his sister.

"I am _not_ calling my owl Morgy."

...

That evening, Sirius sat alone in his room.

Before him, still and unmoving, lay the letter. He watched it, still and unmoving, staring at the hand he had not seen since before _everything _had happened. Before everything had gone horribly, horribly wrong. And these were the words his friend, his brother, had left him with...

_For Padfoot_

...


	13. Marauders Forever

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**After the reviews from the last chapter, I've decided to update early. However, this may mean a slightly longer wait for the next one. Sorry, it shouldn't be any more than a week, or two at most. **

**Trigger Warning: Sirius reads Prong's letter, so there is a lot of guilt and grief and sorrow in this chapter. You can skip it and catch up with the next chapter quite easily, if you would prefer to do so. **

Chapter Twelve_ ~ Marauders Forever_

That evening, Sirius sat alone in his room.

Before him, still and unmoving, lay the letter. He watched it, still and unmoving, staring at the hand he had not seen since before _everything _had happened. Before everything had gone horribly, horribly wrong. And these were the words his friend, his brother, had left him with...

_For Padfoot_

Yet he couldn't open it.

For all the true pleasure it gave him to spend the afternoon with his daughter and godson, to see them getting along, and to hear from his daughter's own mouth that she would categorically oppose Voldemort, even if he couldn't exactly agree with her financial limitations, Sirius could not truly _enjoy_ his afternoon.

Walking in public, as a free man, should have been liberating. _Should_. In fact, it was unsettling. He felt dangerously exposed, and he felt as though he were walking along the edge of a blade. There were too many people. There was too much noise. There was too much of everything. He found himself, much to his own annoyance, missing the quiet of the sunroom at Black Rose House. It was light there, and open, and quiet. He knew exactly who was in the house. He could hear them approach. _There_ was so much easier.

And he had not seen Moony since their argument. He was not sure how to approach him again, and was not sure if he could face a return to Grimmauld Place. It haunted him as much as Azkaban.

And, after all these years, it seemed as though Moony had finally gotten himself a girl, and he'd no doubt annoyed said woman (whoever she was) by turning up and raging and blinding in their kitchen. There was also the small matter that now Moony was on the run, even if the phrase didn't exactly apply as he was clearly staying in one place, from the Ministry.

And Pettigrew was on the loose.

He sighed.

And then there was the letter.

And.

And.

And.

And it just never stopped.

Dinner had gone on forever.

He'd just wanted to escape.

Just wanted some peace.

Just wanted to forget.

Just wanted them to leave him alone.

Cassiopeia.

Caroline.

Kreacher.

The Dementors.

His mother.

His father.

He shuddered.

They weren't there: they were just the ghosts and memories which followed him around, just as the ghosts of Marlene and Lily and James followed him, wanting to know why he'd failed, wanting to know why he'd failed their children.

He shuddered.

He'd fix it.

The letter, lying on the table in front of him.

The letter, which he could not bear to touch.

He shuddered.

And started.

Someone had knocked on the door.

His hand itched for his wand – he felt like he was missing a limb – but Cassiopeia had yet to give it back.

"Who's there?"

"It's me."

_Annie?_

He hastily stuffed the letter in his pocket, trying not to think about what he was doing. Not that it mattered. Hiding it mattered more. Annie couldn't see the letter.

"Come in."

He smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time all day, when he saw her walk into the room. It was late in the evening, and while she was still dressed from dinner, she had let her hair down, presumably to rest her neck. He wanted to laugh, how could he have ever compared her to Bella? She clearly looked more like Andy.

She looked around the room, screwing up her nose. He wanted to laugh at the expression. Granted, she had probably learnt that look of distaste from Cassiopeia, but part of him, probably the very wishful part, saw something in it which reminded him of Marlene. "It's very..."

"Gryffindor?" He supplied, to fill in long the pause while she cast around for an appropriate adjective.

His heart suddenly felt lighter than it had in years.

His girl was here.

And Harry was here.

He'd managed that, at least. That must appease the ghosts. Perhaps Prongs _would _forgive him? Perhaps he _could_ read Prongs' letter?

"Yes, very Gryffindor." She agreed reluctantly.

It was true. The room was largely burgundy and gold. The Gryffindor Common Room had always been the place he'd thought of as home. He'd tried to bring that to his rooms in Black Rose House. At least he'd refrained from hanging up a banner. He was _trying_ to be an adult...

He swallowed.

"So... it's different from Slytherin?"

She inclined her head.

"Sorry, did you come here for something? Or to give a message?"

She paused.

"Sorry, no. Am I disturbing you? I can come back..."

"No, not at all. Sorry, no. Please, sit down."

She crossed the room, clearing evaluating everything in it.

He wondered what she thought, and didn't dare to ask.

"So, Slytherin?"

"I like it."

"Isn't it very... tense?"

She smiled, almost laughed, if the twitch at the corner of her mouth was anything to go by, "I suppose so, but only in the Common Room. Rule number one in the House of Salazar is that we present a united front to the rest of the school."

"Why?"

"Because the rest of you hate us."

He tilted his head, frowning, and not sure if he liked the truth of that statement, "Fair point. Though you have friends in other Houses, don't you?"

"Yes, but I'm considering a career in diplomacy."

"Really?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. I'm not considering a career at all."

He let out a sudden laugh like a bark, "Sorry, you just... You reminded me so much of Cousin Andy just then. She said something very similar once, when we were young. I'd forgotten it, until you said it then."

For a moment, he had gone back in time. He was a boy in short trousers, hiding behind a banister, watching the ball and the dancers below. It all seemed stuffy and boring to him. No one was laughing. He couldn't even see any of them smiling...

"_Whatever are you doing, Cousin Siri?"_

_He jumped to his feet. Mother would have him if she found him out of bed._

_He sighed, "Thank Salazar it's just you, Andy. If Cousin Bella had found me, I'd be done for."_

_She cocked her head at him and regarded him closely. He squirmed under her gaze. Maybe she would tell on him? He glanced up at her from under his eyelashes – the envy of Cousin Cissy, and too long to really belong on a wizard, his mother said – and thought how grown-up Cousin Andy looked tonight. She had dress robes on, heavy, rich dress robes, and her hair was piled up on top of her head. He thought she looked very beautiful. More beautiful than any of his other cousins._

_Suddenly, he frowned. "Cousin Andy, aren't you a grown up now? Almost, anyway? Why are you up here?"_

_She turned her head, looking at the twirling haze of velvet and silk below them. "Escaping, just for a moment."_

"_Do you like it, down there, with the other grownups?"_

"_I'm not grown up yet, Siri."_

"_How will you tell then, when you have grown up?"_

_She sighed. "I don't know."_

"_And what will you do, when you do grow up?"_

_She laughed, a light, elegant, carrying laugh. "Do? Oh Siri, I doubt I'll ever get to __do__ anything."_

Now though, it struck him how tired, how dissatisfied, Andy had looked. Had she already been unhappy, even then? Had she already seen through the glittering facade? Had Ted already caught her eye, her heart? Well, at least Maia didn't have that look. Her words were witty, in jest. Andy had looked... resigned.

"Mr. Black, are you quite alright?"

He jerked in his seat, suddenly brought back to the present. "Yes, sorry. I'm fine. I was just remembering Cousin Andy."

"Oh. Were you close, you and Aunt Andromeda?"

He chewed his lip, "Not especially so. She was older than me, and I was an annoying little boy to her. Still, she was always my favourite cousin, she was... softer than her sisters. I was less surprised when she ran off with the muggleborn."

"I've only met her a few times, but I liked her well enough."

He shook his head. He didn't really want to talk about Andy. "So, you were telling me, what's Slytherin like?"

"Tense, I suppose. Especially in the Common Room. There's a lot of rivalry, and a lot of feuds, and a really strict hierarchy. Tracey, Daphne and I are plotting to be the joint Slytherin Princesses by fifth year."

He snorted, "So the title's real, it's not a joke?"

For a moment, a heartbeat, her eyes were frosty, offended. "It's very real. It's very important. Aunt Cassiopeia approves of our plan."

"Of course she does. So who's the reigning incumbent?"

"Queenie Greengrass, but it's her last year, so we can take over after she leaves. It's all unofficial, of course, but everyone knows. I don't know who'll be Slytherin's Prince now that Bertram Nott's left. It's all a bit murky..." she paused and watched him closely, "I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Why not?"

"You're an outsider."

"You are aware of how creepy that sounds, Annie. It's things like that that put people off Slytherins. They don't hate them, they're just scared of them."

Her face was blank.

He scrambled.

"Sorry. Maia. It's Maia."

She tilted her head, "It's alright."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, once. "I don't... I don't call you... It's hard, for both of us, I suppose."

He glanced around the room, "You know, I think this counts as our first real conversation."

"You mean I wasn't providing scintillating conversation as a baby?"

"I regret to inform you that you weren't, but you did a really good job of bawling through the night so your mother and I couldn't get any decent sleep."

"My apologies."

"Thank you."

There was silence.

"I'm learning Gaelic."

He looked up, "Pardon?"

"I'm learning Irish Gaelic. I spoke to mother. She said, well, we thought I ought to try and learn about the McKinnons, but that perhaps it would be better to do things slowly. So, well, I thought I'd learn Gaelic. I've studied their family tree as well."

He sucked in his lips, feeling the weight of the letter in his pocket, the weight of the past on his shoulders, his heart. "That's... that's nice."

"You don't mind?"

"Mind? Of course I don't mind. I'm pleased... I'm pleased, I didn't know you were doing that at all."

She rubbed her forehead for a moment, "And... well, I've never seen a picture... of her."

He started up in an instant, "I can get-"

"-please, not yet."

He sat back down, visibly rebuked.

"I mean... I'm sorry, I mean, I want to see one... soon, I suppose, but just... not yet."

He smiled, "That's ok. I understand, I do. Perhaps... perhaps you could tell me about Marius as well?"

"I'd like that."

...

_For Padfoot_

He had to.

He had to do this.

He'd already broken the seal.

He could do this...

_Dear Padfoot, _

_Congratulations! It's a boy!_

_Yeah, that's probably really awkward, and not funny, but if you're reading this then I'm dead. Well, I hope I went out in a blaze of glory. No, actually, I don't. I hope I went out protecting Lily and Harry, because that's what counts the most. That, or if I went out protecting you, Moony or Wormy. You guys were my best friends, and the best friends a man could ask for. _

_But if I'm gone, then you're Harry's dad now. I don't want you to feel weird about that, or feel wrong when you look at him and see your son. That's what I want. I want him to grow up knowing you as his father. You'll be great with him. I mean, you'll probably mess up spectacularly here and there, will be ridiculously irresponsible and will let him fly when he's too young and run after girls like nobody's business. But you'll look after Harry, and you'll keep him safe, and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that._

_Also, if you're reading this, then it means you've seen that state of the Potter finances. I'm not going to ask you to try and replenish them, or provide more gold for him. I know __they__ disowned you, and that I couldn't ask that of you. And I wouldn't go to you, from beyond the grave, cap in hand for my little boy anyway. I made the decision to spend the gold, and I have to live (and have now had to die) with the knowledge that I deprived my son of the privileges I so long took for granted. _

_I'm being serious now, Padfoot. If I'm dead, then I have to be. Because I can't joke forever, and I can't make a joke about the state of our world, or about leaving my son an orphaned Heir to an impoverished House. I spent that money to fund the Order, to fund the war and the safe houses and to feed our members and their families when they were forced out of work. The money should have lasted for generations, but Voldemort's evil like that, and I gave it all over. If we win, then I'd rather the House lived in poverty, with the Potter name tarnished for all eternity, and know that I gave it all up for something worth a hell of a lot more than gold. And if we lose, then the loss of the gold will be nothing compared to everything else that's at stake. _

_I'm hoping though that if you've survived to read this, then we've won, or are at least on our way to winning._

_And I'm not completely idealistic. I've made sure that there's enough left to get Harry through Hogwarts, and a bit more put by to make sure he's comfortable. I saved the best of the jewels, and I kept the manor for him too. So, I'm not going to ask you for gold, but I am going to ask you to teach him the value of his coin, and the value of his work, because he can't afford to be lazy and arrogant like we were. I hope you don't judge me too harshly for the choices I've made, but I made them as a man, and I believe they were the right ones. I hope that Harry will understand this as well, although I also hope he grows up in a world where he never has to face such choices. _

_Well, Padfoot, it looks like I'm coming to the end with this, and I don't know what to say. I imagine that these are the last things I'll ever get to say to you. Merlin, that's a hard thought to stomach. Padfoot, you were like a brother to me, and always will be. Look after my boy, and make sure he knows, every single day, just how much Lily and I loved him. If I didn't die for him, then make sure he knows that, by Godric, I would have. We both would have. A thousand times over and without a moment's hesitation. _

_Marauders forever._

_Prongs._

Sirius re-read the letter, tears falling as his hands shook.

There was just... there was so much in there. And so many things he should have – would have – done, had he not gone after Peter. But he remembered that day. And in his memories, he never saw a moment when he would have stopped, would have not gone after that rat.

Not after he saw the house.

Not after he realised he betrayed James.

And sure as hell not after he realised the rat must have betrayed Marlene too.

No, he would always have gone after the rat.

He just wished he hadn't been out-witted by that piece of utter, utter filth.

And still he cried.

_Should have been a father_.

Would be a father – or the best that he could be for Harry now, for both of them.

_Like a brother_.

Prongs was even more than a brother. He was his other half. He was like another limb. When he walked out of the house, and realised that he'd never again have that familiar sense of James standing next to him, as they'd stood year after year, he had felt as though part of him was missing.

Was still missing, even now.

Would always still be missing.

And Godric, there was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to do...

And to know that these were Prongs' last words...

And they were Prongs, through and through they were Prongs.

Direct.

Loyal.

Honest.

True.

Brave.

And on the third reading, he realised that Prongs made no mention of Annie. The knowledge hit him like a punch to the gut.

Prongs probably written that letter after Marlene had died, and Prongs wasn't an idiot. He had known exactly how bad things were, and had known exactly how low the odds were of them all coming out of it alive. Sirius had no doubt that Prongs had written many letters, based on who might have lived and died, which would now never be delivered. There was probably one for Lily, or Moony, or even for Pettigrew, for whoever came to look after Harry if he wasn't there.

There was probably one for just Harry, in case none of them made it through to care for him. Sirius had only got this one because he'd been there with him.

And - and Sirius got a lump in his throat when he returned to the thought – Prongs had most likely made no mention of Annie because he had worried, had seriously worried, that Annie might not make it through either, and hadn't wanted to stab him with a reminder of his lost daughter.

The daughter who he thought he _had_ lost.

Godric, Prongs was a good man.

He wondered if Prongs had written a letter based on someone inheriting without Harry being in the picture, and if he could have brought himself to pen such a thing. Sirius doubted it. He seriously wouldn't have been able to face such a task.

He eyed the firewhiskey, but couldn't bring himself to drink it. This wasn't a feeling he couldn't, _wouldn't_, drink away.

And he wasn't going to bother trying.

But Prongs was right.

The Marauders _would _last forever. As long as they still cared.

And he, Sirius, would _always_ care.

And he could, would, make it right.

...


	14. Mars Was Bright

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**I had a reviewer who asked for a specific response prior to the posting of this chapter. However, as the person in question didn't log in, I was unable to reply. I shall briefly respond here: **

**I generally update weekly. It's very rare that I take longer than this.**

**I'm not commenting on plot lines, particularly romantic ones. Sorry. It takes all the fun out of reading if you know who ends up with who, and they're all about 14 still anyway!**

**So, let the story continue...**

Chapter Thirteen_ – Mars Was Bright_

Many things are written in the stars: the rise and fall of kings and nations, curses and plagues, great loves and the great losses, and the coming of wars that will ravage the face of the earth, and the hate and pain and destruction they carry in their wake.

Mars was very red that night.

Bright like fire.

Bright like blood.

Bane and Magorian dipped their heads.

Mars was far too bright.

And the stars seemed to dim in comparison.

In fact, it seemed that night, that night so dark and cold and empty, that the starts had not dimmed, but gone out, leaving the world to the blackness, as if there was no room left for light.

Or life.

Or hope.

...

The old gardener looked up and the ramshackle 'Big House'.

Every village in all of England had an old 'Big House' where so many of the villagers had used to work in days gone by. They were falling apart now, and were falling into the past, becoming long forgotten memories. They were the realms of ghosts now, of echoes of a former age. The scullery stairs were silent. The grand ball rooms still. The kitchen cupboards bare.

There was no life there anymore: no love, no laughter, no hope, no future.

But Frank had stayed, to listen to the faint reverberations of the echoes. And to hope that he could, one day, be lost within them, and be swallowed up by them, and so find his own way home again.

His home was in the past.

And so, with only his flashlight and his anger and the sacrilege being committed in his own shrine – the grave and the heaven he had chosen for himself, his heaven in the past – he made his way up to the 'Big House'.

And Harry Potter woke up screaming.

...

A sharp voice.

"Wake up, Potter."

A shove.

"I said wake up."

A hush, and a cool hand brushing back his hair.

"Goodness, his scar."

An unbidden curse.

"Can we wake him up?"

Just the screaming, his screaming, filling the air.

"Why won't he wake up?"

More screaming.

A girls' voice – higher than normal.

"Make it stop, I can't bear it, I just can't"

More screaming.

"Cassiopeia, his scar, it's getting _worse_."

...

Breakfast the next morning was, unlike the night before, silent.

The only sound was the rattle and clatter of china as Caroline stirred her tea, over and over again. Nobody spoke.

Until Cassiopeia spoke, of course.

"Mr. Potter, I have come to the conclusion that your scar is no ordinary scar."

Sirius frowned, turning to her, "What do you mean?"

"He had a vision, of sorts, last night. Or did you somehow forget the racket already, Sirius?"

"But Cousin Harry cannot be a Seer?" said Maia, her breakfast untouched. She sounded confused.

Harry looked down, silent. He had no wish to talk about last night, or the things that he had seen.

"No, Maia, he cannot _possibly_ be a Seer. Do you require remedial genealogy lessons?"

Before Maia could answer, Caroline leant forwards, "Please, Cassiopeia, just tell us what you have surmised."

"Mr. Potter's _scar_ –" Harry noted that she had now reverted to Mr. Potter and wondered if he were in trouble, or if formality was simply her fallback in any moment of discomfort "- may not be a scar at all. It has always been rather prominent, rather vivid, has it not? I believe, given that it bled last night, that it is not a scar, but a wound, like a scab. One which is often almost closed over, but never entirely so."

Harry glanced around the table. Sirius was nodding, Maia looked thoughtful, and Caroline was watching him with concern as plain as day on her face. It felt rather nice, to have someone look at him that way. Or it would have felt nice, if he hadn't spent the night screaming the house down about Voldemort.

"And, given what Harry saw – and note that I say saw, not dreamt – I believe that part of that wound may connect him, in some way, to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord's mind in particular."

She was about to continue, when Caroline spoke up quickly, "Excuse me. But you say 'part of' the wound. What of the other parts?"

Cassiopeia looked at Harry for a moment, and then away. "I dare not speculate more, at this stage. There may be more, there may not be. I may, if Mr. Potter is amenable, discuss the matter with Dumbledore. That wound was forged by Dark Magic, in circumstances that have never before been witnessed. We may never know its fullest extent, and perhaps it would be best that we did not."

They were silent for a moment.

"But, I would err on the side of caution and say that if Mr. Potter can see the Dark Lord, then the Dark Lord, likewise, can see him. Given that the Dark Lord would undoubtedly hope that nobody saw his actions last night – or his present state – then we can assume that he is as yet unaware of the connection."

"And that's good, right?" said Harry.

Cassiopeia drew herself up, "Of course it is, Mr. Potter." She arched her neck, before continuing, "It means we can work to defend your mind. You shall begin studying Occlumacy forthwith. Today."

"Occlumacy?"

She tightened her lips, "I shall explain when we begin."

Sirius looked away for a moment, he would have taught Harry, but his mind was in no state to delve around in its depths.

He turned back to the table, as Maia spoke.

"Do you know how the Dark Lord came back?"

She was looking at Harry, who shrugged, "I don't know. He had two men – Pettigrew and another, who I didn't recognise. He looked... haggard, and as though he were older than he looked, but, well, that could be anyone, I suppose."

Caroline put her tea down, "Could you put the memories in a Pensieve? Cassiopeia or Sirius might recognise him?"

Cassiopeia shook her head, "A Penseive can hold only memories, not visions or dreams."

Caroline nodded, "So we have no way of knowing how he came back?"

There was silence once more.

Until, once more, Cassiopeia spoke.

"_Have any of you heard of Horcruxes?"_

...


	15. Aftermath

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**A/N – Thanks for all the reviews from the last chapter. Yes, I am introducing Horcruxes earlier, but don't forget, they've already been around since CoS (Dumbledore still has Cygnus hanging in his office...). **

**For those of you who haven't read 'As Black As Night', Cassiopeia wasn't being too clever in realising that Voldemort came back via Horcruxes. She's known about them since CoS as well. : ) **

Chapter Fourteen_ ~ Aftermath_

_One week later..._

"So now you know everything."

Cassiopeia watched him, watched for his reaction. Had she been a lesser woman, she would have held her breath.

"After Cousin Harry's vision, I felt obliged to disclose the full nature of the last decade to you."

Sirius pulled back in his chair, "Everything? Are you sure? I don't trust you not to have hidden something else up your sleeve, to use against me at a later date."

"You are, technically, our Head of House."

"And you want me to take over? I'm supposed to believe that?"

"When you're cleared for a wand."

"St. Mungo's cleared me yesterday."

She placed Alphard's old wand and a heavy, gold signet ring on the table between them. "Is that so?" She smirked.

He wondered if that was her happy face, or the closest she could get to one. "You're being surprisingly easy about this. I thought you would refuse."

"Power is best held in the shadows."

He sighed. _Slytherins_. He would never understand them. But still, things were good. Reading that letter, for all the pain it had caused him, had actually helped. Prongs was his best friend, his brother. He would look after his boy, from this day onwards and for as long as Harry needed him, and Prongs would forgive him when they met of the other side. The thought gave him some peace.

And Sirius had realised, in the last week, that he still had a life, and that life could be fixed. Before, he had wanted to fix it. Now, he was fixing it. And that made all the difference.

Harry was learning Occlumacy.

Harry was learning about his parents.

Harry was eating properly, and filling out.

Harry, in spite of everything, _actually_ looked relaxed.

_Maia_ was not learning Occlumacy – it was a pointless task for Seers, whose minds were naturally open – but she was duelling better. He, _he_, had helped her to train. And _he_ had taught her to overcome her aversion to moving during a duel. Dodging a spell was not a weakness.

And he was talking to Maia every day, and calling her Maia, and they actually had real conversations, about their day, small talk, nice and simple and panic-free small talk. She made him laugh – she had Cassiopeia's sharp tongue, which could be witty when it wasn't being cruel.

It was a shame that neither child was interested in pranks. Maia had, as she rather forcefully stressed, grown out of such behaviour when she entered Hogwarts. And Harry had never really had the chance to get into pranks...

But, Sirius reflected, that may be a good thing. He wanted to be father-figure, not a friend.

He had to be the adult.

He was being the adult.

And that was a good thing.

And that gave him another grain of peace to add to the first.

That, and the two young people, were, actually, behaving like young people. The Quidditch World Cup was tomorrow and even Cassiopeia had given up on lessons and sent them into the garden - with the instructions not to come near her again until the World Cup was over. Even Caroline – _Caroline_ – was caught up in the excitement, and the happiness in the house was infectious.

And, after Harry's vision, it was good to see them acting like children. He had been horrified that Maia _had_ heard of Horcruxes, but then, he was not surprised. The reading material in the House of Black was different from that of even most pureblood families, after all. And she had _not _known what they actually did, or how they were made. For which he could only be thankful.

Though it did not surprise him that Voldemort would seek immortality, and through the Darkest of means.

At least they knew, and that was something. Though they knew not how many he had made, or where they were. But at least they knew they existed, and that was something. They could look, and that was something.

And it was another secret which he had to keep for the House of Black.

_Head of House..._

"So," said Cassiopeia, raising an eyebrow and interrupting his thoughts, "do you care to inform me of your plans?"

He shook his head for a moment, picking up the ring. He felt the weight of it in his hand, and it seemed to hum. He held it up to the light for a moment, before slowly pushing it down into place. It felt warm and comfortable. He had not expected it to feel so... right. But it did.

"Your plans?"

He looked up, grinning. "Well, my first thought is to go after Malfoy, but I don't suppose we can really do that yet."

"The split has never been made public."

"Can I go after the Parkinsons, for hurting my girl?"

"I would not object, but I doubt Maia would approve. She'd pursuing it as her own feud."

"She's _my_ girl."

"I've always encouraged her independence." Said Cassiopeia lightly.

They were in the library, where the children would have been studying, had they been able to sit still. It was nice, to know that for all her airs, Maia was still a child. He had not thought Cassiopeia would have allowed her to have a childhood, but then, Cassiopeia was not Walburga, and Marius had evidently not been like Orion. And Andy and Bella and Cissy had never felt quite as... constrained, to be diplomatic, as he and Regulus had always done. And it was good to see Prongslet laugh, to see that the Dursleys had not crushed _all _the laughter out of him.

The thought gave him inspiration.

"Can I go after the Dursleys?"

"We need them alive for the sake of the wards."

He felt a twinge of disappointment.

"Can I hunt Horcruxes?"

"_Where?"_

He sighed.

There were still school books on the table, French, Potions, Runes... Remus had always liked Runes.

"I'm going to go to Grimmauld Place."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't burn it to the ground." He caught her eye, and for a moment, thought he saw understanding there. "I'm rather partial to the library."

And then the Cassiopeia he knew was back.

"Actually, I need to talk to Remus."

...

Sirius appeared in Grimmauld Place, this time having the good sense to apparate into his own bedroom. The muggle girls still smiled down at him – unmoving and unrepentant – and he wondered just how much they had infuriated his mother.

He couldn't help but be pleased with the thought.

The Gryffindor banners hung from the walls, aged, but defiant against all the years that had passed as well. He un-charmed one from the walls. Harry would probably like one for his room. He doubted that Maia would want one. He folded it carefully and stored it away. Slowly, he opened the door. He could not hear anything.

"Remus? It's me, Padfoot. Are you in?"

He heard a shriek from downstairs.

"Filth! Traitor! Sorrow of my heart!"

Snarling and gripping his wand, he ran down the stairs, coming face to face with the twisted portrait of Walburga Black.

"You don't have a bloody heart!"

"Coward! Filth!"

"Oh change the damn record." He spat, deliberately using the muggle phrase.

Her whole face curled with disgust.

"You-"

"-_I_," he cut in, "am the Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I hate this place and I hate you, so don't try my patience. Shut up and behave with a shred of dignity like the rest of the portraits, or I'll burn you with Fiendfire, and I _won't_ keep control."

She opened her mouth and closed it again.

"You've changed."

"Age and Azkaban will do that to a man."

And with that, he tugged the curtains closed.

"Are you alright?"

He turned to find Remus standing in the kitchen doorway.

"I'm fine, and you?"

He nodded, slowly. "Why are you here?"

"I came to talk to you."

Remus nodded again. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Thank you."

Sirius sat down while Remus set about boiling the kettle and finding a tea strainer for the leaves. "So, Head of House?"

"For what it's worth."

"Maia might not like it." He said, without turning around.

"Why not?"

"She was supposed to take over, when she came of age. The position was hers by blood, after all."

Sirius shrugged, "She can help, if she wants. I'm not bothered. Or she can do something else."

"I expect she'll do something in Potions... or Cassiopeia might have her take over the Ministry."

He laughed, "Now you've mentioned it, that probably is a plan she's mulling over."

Remus placed the tray of tea between them. "How are you holding up?"

He shrugged, "I'm fine, and you?"

"Better – someone made me see sense."

"The girl?"

He nodded, "I don't like seeing her cry. I'd do anything, to make her happy. And I mean that. My self-loathing was selfish, and inflicting it on her was unforgiveable."

"She sounds like a keeper."

"She is."

They fell into silence.

Sirius picked up, and then put down, his tea without taking a sip. "I'm sorry about before."

"You had every right to be angry. I left your daughter to the Blacks, and your godson to the Dursleys. I'm not particularly proud of myself either."

Sirius dipped his head, deliberately stirring his tea. He wasn't sure if it was real, or his imagination, but Grimmauld Place itself seemed to smell like death and despair. It seemed to hang in the air. And the house was neglected, falling apart. But wasn't that his family – or at least his branch thereof – neglected and falling apart? It was a testament to how low a group of people could sink. Perhaps it would be better if they_ did_ burn it to the ground.

"It doesn't matter now, and you couldn't have taken Harry. He still has to stay with the Dursleys. And you're right – they wouldn't have let you keep Maia, unless you raised her in hiding. And I wouldn't have wanted that for her, not really. She's happy and safe and well, and after Azkaban, I'll count every blessing I have and thank every God there is for them."

Remus eyed his friend. He had changed, there was an _age _about Sirius, in his eyes and the set of his shoulders, that he had never seen before. _Before, _Sirius had always seemed so _young_ and so _determined_ to stay that way. _After_ he had seemed aged and haunted, and that was still there, but _now_ there was something about the_ man _of Sirius who had not been there before. A sense of pride, proper pride, which had been earned and which woujd be kept. And it seemed to be a good thing, a healthy thing, a healing thing.

"You're calling her Maia too, now?"

He nodded. "I'm trying to be a good father."

"You will be, you were before, and that didn't change... in between." No, whatever else Remus saw changed in Sirius, he love and his loyalty would never change. Without those things, he would not be Sirius.

He shrugged, "A lot changed though." He was silent for a moment, "What did you do? After it all... happened?"

"Lost it. Took her to Dumbledore. I kept looking at her and seeing Marlene, and she wanted to know why I hadn't stopped you, why I hadn't seen. I couldn't bear it. And I couldn't bear watching the world celebrate, when everyone I loved was dead, or as good as. I took off, for a few years. I thought I'd travel, and forget..."

He sighed, taking a heavy sip of his tea. "You can't forget things like that though, and I was angry. I went werewolf hunting, for the bad ones, the ones like Greyback."

Sirius started. He could not imagine his mild-mannered friend ever doing such a thing.

"It did not last long – I may have been especially suited for the role, but I did not have the stomach for it. It was not long before I merely travelled, and wallowed, and then came back here to wallow in the peace of English rain and solitude."

"I'm sorry."

"I think we can safely say that you had it worse."

"But still... you came back for Maia, in the end."

Remus smiled, "And she came back from me."

"Once she realised you weren't a rabid werewolf out to kill her."

He nodded. "Cassiopeia still doesn't trust me."

Sirius pursed his lips, staring down at the tea. "For what it's worth, she has her reasons. I just... I just can't tell you them."

Remus dipped his head, "It doesn't matter either way. She's given me sanctuary, which is more than I ever expected. Though I think it's more for Dora's sake than mine."

"Dora?"

"The woman you insulted last time. The keeper..."

Sirius blinked, and things slowly started to slot into place. "Wait... _Cousin_ Dora? Who picked me up when I was drunk... no. No... they looked different."

"Metamorphmagus."

"I forgot."

A pause.

"I can't believe I forgot that..."

Remus cringed back, waiting.

"Wait...You. You and Cousin Dora?"

He nodded.

"You and my baby Cousin Dora? But she's... she's a kid."

"She qualifies as an Auror in a few months, top of her class. Though there's only twenty of them left. High dropout rate, you know."

"You and Dora?"

Remus nodded again, increasingly wary. "Yes..."

Sirius leant back in his chair, "You know, as her Head of House, you should have asked my permission before you courted her."

Remus rolled his eyes, knowing his friend well enough to discount his seemingly stern look. "I'm afraid you were otherwise engaged. And it's a bit late for courting. I asked her to marry me."

"Can I be your best man?"

Remus shrugged and looked away, "I doubt there'll be a wedding. Not when we're living like this. I just wish I could give her more. When I proposed... I thought I could actually offer her something. But now? A werewolf on the run from the Ministry, wanted for working with Voldemort? I'm hardly the man Ted hoped would come round, asking for his daughter."

Sirius frowned, "I doubt Cousin Dora ever loved you for your gold, Moony. Don't go back to before – it's about time you tried for some happiness. And besides, Black women are the best, you shouldn't let her slip through your fingers."

Remus cocked an eyebrow, and starting counting on his fingers, "Bellatrix, Narcissa, Irma, Walbura, Druella-"

"-when they're _sane_, of course."

Remus laughed, and finally, the last Marauders were back.

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, "There's other stuff that I have to tell you, Moony. I want you to be as much a part of this House as Dora. But I have to tell you some rather awful things."

Remus nodded, "You all have my loyalty. Now and forever."

Sirius stared at tbackhe scrubbed wooden table, "Harry's having visions of Voldemort."

The chair scraped – "What?"

Sirius pulled at his hair, "I know. Cassiopeia's teaching him Occulmacy... I'd rather it was me, but, well, my thoughts are not, not always... It's better that she do it."

"She's a good teacher, I'll say that much for her." He scratched his greying stubble as he sat back down, "Does Voldemort know, there must be some connection between them both?"

_Remus did not have straight Os for nothing_.

"That's what Cassiopeia thinks – a connection between his scar, or not-a-scar, according to her."

"Not a scar?"

Sirius shrugged, "It's magic over my head, you'll have to talk to her. But we – well, Cassiopeia – thinks Voldemort doesn't know. If he did, she thinks he would have exploited it already."

Remus nodded, "That makes sense, and I imagine she has a good grasp on how a man like Voldemort would think."

Sirius sighed, "I just wish that was the beginning of it all, as well as the end..."

And so he told him, about the diary, the attempted treason, about the split, about Lucius, the House Council, the Horcrux of Cygnus currently sitting in Dumbledore's study...

At the end of it, Sirius sighed. "Do you ever miss our school days?"

"All the time." Said Remus, "But I'll do anything I can to help."

...

Remus apparated into Black Rose House with a quiet 'pop', pausing for a moment to take in his surroundings. The moment did not last for long, before the door swung open and Cassiopeia stepped in, her wand drawn.

"Get out."

"Sirius told me what happened – with Harry – I've come to help. I know about the Hrocruxes, about the vision."

"We do not require your help. Get out."

"_Cassiopeia_..."

"Get out."

"I never meant to hurt her."

"Get out."

"You know that."

"Get. Out."

"In all this years, have I not given you any reason to trust me?"

She tipped her head back and laughed. "Trust you? You think I could _ever_ trust you? It's not even what you _are_, it's who turned you."

"Believe me, I hate Greyback as much as you do-"

"-you cannot _possibly_ hate Greyback even half as much as I do. Now get out."

"Cassiopeia-"

She fired a hex at him, which he barely dodged. He lost his footing and stumbled. "Cassiopeia, please-"

She sent another one and he staggered back, though all the while refusing to draw his wand. "Very well, I have always seen your hatred when you looked at me, and always known your hatred. And I understand that seeing my transformation, seeing me almost attack-"

"GET OUT!" She shouted this time. "GET OUT! If Nymphadora wants to waste her life on you, throw her lot in with you, then that's her choice and I can help her as much as I can, but Salazar help me, the likes of you will never harm my Heir, my family, again. I got rid of you before, and I'll do it again. And I'll make it _permanent_ if I have to. Now. Get. Out."

Remus blinked, his hands shaking. He opened his mouth, but his lips and throat were dry.

"I'm sorry."

She lowered her wand and stepped back, "Just get out."

...

Maia and Harry were stood in the doorway, still clutching their brooms, their hair still windswept from flying.

Maia's voice was slightly weak, her eyes slightly wide, "Aunt Cassiopeia... I don't under-"

Cassiopeia spun round, wand still in hand, her eyes bloodshot. "I thought I said I didn't want to see either of you until _after_ that Salazar-forsaken match."

Harry grabbed Maia's elbow and pulled her out of the room. The door slammed shut in their faces as soon they crossed the threshold.

And then there was silence.

...


	16. The Night Falling

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Fifteen_ ~ The Night Falling_

Harry pulled at the collar of his shirt. He felt ridiculously overdressed for camping, but then, this was the House of Black. He was rapidly learning that they were over-dressed for everything.

Still, these were, apparently, normal day robes. They weren't even that bad. He wore a shirt and trousers with a wizard's robe over the top. It was much like his school uniform, except for the fact that these were a plain grey.

He was also quite excited. Since he had arrived at Black Rose House, he was experiencing more and more of the daily magical world outside of Hogwarts, and today he was going to be catching a Portkey.

"And don't worry, I've arranged for us to take a private Portkey. So you don't have to worry about that."

He wasn't sure what _that_ was, but as Aunt Cassiopeia was talking, he expected it was the 'lower orders', or some other group, against which she held an inexplicable and unnecessary grudge.

The _event_ of the previous afternoon had not been mentioned. Cassiopeia had sat down for dinner acting as though nothing had happened, and so, before they had gone to bed, he and Maia had agreed to never mention it again. He took Maia's advice: sometimes, it was better to just act like you hadn't seen something. It was something he had learnt at the Dursleys before. It was something of which Cassiopeia had reminded him.

He wasn't sure how long this was going to last, and Cassiopeia had actually scared him, and scared Maia, which probably said more.

He shook his head. _It had never happened._

It was early in the morning, and the sky was pink and purple as dawn broke over the hill. The air was fresh and light, and the morning was certainly beautiful as their group trudged up the hill. He and Sirius seemed to be used to lack of sleep and early mornings, as they led the way to the top. Cassiopeia came next, marching briskly, and calling out instructions to them all.

She'd already stopped Maia twice to re-arrange her hat. Apparently, Maia was not allowed to wear it at her chosen angle.

Harry didn't care.

Maia and Caroline brought up the rear of their group, both looking rather bleary eyed and worse for wear. They were clearly _not_ used to seeing this hour. Harry thought there was something rather marvellous about watching the sun rise – it made him feel happy and alive – although that could also be due to the fact that he was about to watch the best Quidditch players in the world battle it out for the Cup.

"Now, remember. You are all representing your House-"

"- I _am_ the Head of House –" interjected Sirius, his tone light.

"- and you once filled my personal study with slime. You expect me to offer you the slightest amount of respect or responsibility? So, as I was saying, you are there to represent your House –"

"- thought we were there to watch Quidditch –" said Harry, in an undertone to Sirius.

"- I heard that Potter-"

Harry blushed.

"-and so, I expect you to behave with dignity and decorum at all times. I expect the highest levels of etiquette and behaviour. You are, indeed, camping. That, however, is _not_ an excuse to play in the dirt, act like children or –"

"-enjoy ourselves?"

"-Sirius. Orion. Black-"

"Calm down, Cassiopeia." Said Caroline, coming up behind her and squeezing her elbow. "I'll be there to supervise them, and we'll all have a marvellous time."

Cassiopeia's nose curled. "I shouldn't have declined the invitation."

"It will be fine. Maia," she said, turning to her daughter, "do you have any bad feelings about the match?"

"The match?" she rubbed her eyes, looking confused.

"Any visions, feelings, anything the cards said?"

"Oh, that." She shook her head, "No."

Cassiopeia refrained from rolling her eyes, "Because Seers are such reliable sources of information, but very well. I take your point. I hope you all have a suitably appropriate experience."

Sirius glanced at his watch, "Can anyone see the Portkey?"

"What will it look like?" asked Harry.

Sirius shrugged, "Could be anything, really."

Caroline looked around, "They've probably charmed it so a muggle can't see it."

Sirius looked at his watch again, "It's almost time."

"Oh for pity's sake, you're all useless. It's there." Snapped Cassiopeia, pointing at an old tin can.

And so, gathered around the small piece of rust, the world fell away beneath them all.

...

Harry landed on the floor with a thud, and looked up to see Maia, Caroline and Sirius staring down at him. Sirius offered him and hand, and pulled him to his feet.

"Seriously Potter? Not even a Portkey?"

He brushed dirt from his robes, and Caroline laid a warning hand on Maia's shoulder. She shook out her skirts.

"Sorry. It's still early."

Harry nodded.

And portly man came bustling over, with a little _too_ much enthusiasm, "Ah, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Just on time. I trust you had a pleasant journey."

Both Maia and Caroline glared at him – it _was_ rather early – and he bustled back slightly.

"Ah. Yes, anyway. Your companion party are due any moment now, and then I'll be able to send you on your way to the campsite." He held out a box with a flourish, "And, Mrs. Black, if you'll allow me, this is your Anti-Anti-Muggle-Repellent Charm, so that you'll be able campsite etc. etc."

Maia sneered – _Anti-Anti-Muggle-Repellent?_

He handed over the box – clearly rather proud of his task – and added, "Minister Fudge _himself_ suggested that they might be to your taste."

Caroline opened the box to reveal and string of heavy pearls. Sirius let out a low whistle, "They really are sucking up, aren't they?"

The man coughed, shuffled his feet, and tugged at his collar, over which his rather flabby neck flowed. "Yes, well. Those are all charmed, and-" he started and moved away, "-Oh! Here's your companion party."

Harry tensed. Knowing that Maia seemed to be incapable of surviving twenty four hours without seeing Malfoy he had no doubt that-

"-ah, Mrs. Black. Arthur, Arthur Weasley." The balding man approached, hands out and clasped one of Caroline's hands in both of his own and shook it firmly, "_Such_ a pleasure to make your acquaintance. _Such_ a pleasure."

"Ron!" Harry bounded forwards, and the two boys pulled each other into a hug, rocking slightly with their ferocity.

Maia felt herself knocked back by a force of bushy-hair and awkwardly returned the hug, briefly, by patting Hermione on the back.

"It was so very good, the arrangement which you and my wife came to. Such a good arrangement." Continued Mr. Weasley.

"Yes..." Caroline tried to pull back slightly, her hand still being shaken by the irrepressible Mr. Weasley. "Mrs. Weasley and I discussed the difficulty we were having with the sleeping arrangements, and Maia and Hermione were already friends..."

"Such a lovely girl, that Hermione. Been telling me so much about elektriomobobs. I was wondering if I might-"

Sirius swooped in, and Caroline finally freed herself as Arthur Weasley stepped back and blinked. "Arthur Weasley. It's wonderful to see you again after so long. How is Molly? And the boys?"

Arthur blinked, his mouth opening and closing.

"Molly never mentioned..."

Caroline shook herself, "Oh, how foolish of me. I must have forgotten to mention, but really, it is most natural that Mr. Black should accompany his House to the World Cup."

The children all looked on, nervously. Maia settled herself next to Hermione, and slightly further away from the Weasley children.

"Oh, yes, of course, most natural." Arthur Weasley faltered, his face clearly registering that he had _not_ thought there was _anything_ natural about going camping with a recent Azkaban escapee.

"And really," she continued, "it probably works out better. The girls, of course, will stay with me, and you can have the second tent with the older boys, and we can leave Sirius to deal with the younger ones."

One of the older boys snickered, and nudged one of the twins. Maia neither knew nor cared which. "Have fun with that."

Both twins looked scandalised, "Charlie – he was a _Marauder_."

"Ron said so."

"Mr. Padfoot."

"A hero."

"A God among men."

"A-" the boy stumbled slightly, "hey!"

The older boy – Charlie – shrugged.

The man, shuffling again, came back towards them, "Yes, well, anyway, I have another group arriving in twenty six seconds, so if you could just..."

Arthur seemed to come back to earth with a jolt, "Yes, of course, where are we going?"

...

"So, mate, how are you?"

"Good thanks – it's good to see you. And the rest of you, of course."

Ron nodded, "Yeah, mum was going to come, but Bill turned up on our doorstep, fresh from Egypt two days ago after being out of touch for three months on some mission, and mum gave it to him instead."

Harry nodded, not really listening, as he tried to tug his robes back into place.

Ron stopped him, grabbed the shoulders of the robes, and gave them a firm tug. "There you go."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, well, day robes aren't cut in the same was as school robes. It's why only stuffy purebloods wear them. You have a stand a certain way-" he puffed out his chest and pranced "-to keep them in place."

"I've noticed."

Ron laughed, "Besides, I thought we were all meant to be 'going muggle' for this anyway."

"Maia's aunt wouldn't let us."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Yeah."

Harry looked around the campsite – it seemed that most of the assembled witches and wizards were doing a very poor job of 'going muggle' anyway, if the signs for 'The Salem Witches' Institute' and 'The Viennese Charm School' were anything to go by.

Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets, "So, how is everything going, with the Blacks? You know you could have stayed with us, right? Mum would've loved it."

Harry scuffed his shoe in the mud, "Yeah, I know, but they sort of turned up, en masse, and rescued me from the Dursleys and they aren't, well, they aren't _that _bad."

"So they haven't locked you in their dungeons yet?"

"Don't be ridiculous, of course they don't have dungeons."

Ron's eyebrows shot up, "The likelihood of them lot _not_ having dungeons is about the same as Malfoy standing up at breakfast and declaring his undying love for all things Hufflepuff at the Welcome Feast in the Great Hall."

"Are you sure?"

"Dead sure." Ron paused, "So, what's it like?" His face was alight with morbid curiosity.

...

Maia watched her mother and Mr. Weasley lead the way, wondering if she ought to rescue her from the latter's overflowing enthusiasm. Well, her mother seemed to be holding up. The person who looked to be in the most danger was Mr. Black – Sirius – who was being trailed by the twins who were afflicted with what appeared to be a severe case of hero worship.

The three eldest Weasleys were not to her tastes – the first was a rebel, the second a drifter and the third a bore – but she supposed that they probably had some redeeming features. Or at least, that was what she would have said if asked. And, she reminded herself sternly, these people were important to Cousin Harry, who was now family, so she shouldn't be deliberately antagonistic, if she could at all help it.

It was a trying life, surrounded by Gryffindors.

"It's so good to see you, and thank you for the books. They really helped me."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Oh, I am, and the Healers were marvellous, and completely happy to answer all of my questions. And I'm completely potion free now, although I'm still getting tremors from time to time." She held out her hand, to show how it subtlety shook, "But they said it's an after-affect which will fade soon enough. But still, the books were a real life saver. I'm not sure about that one on Blood Magic though."

"It's one of my favourites."

"Oh... don't you think it's a little, you know, _Dark_."

"Oh, without a doubt it _could_ be Dark, but if you altered the intent, you could do something very _Light_. So, for example, I could use Blood Wards to protect my home from Death Eaters. Or, actually, I could ward _your_ home with _my_ blood. I could make it so that nobody but me with Black blood could cross them. Given the propensity of my family to support the Dark Lord, that might not be a bad idea, actually. Though this is hypothetical – we're too young to perform such spells. But an adult could perform them, so the theory still stands."

Hermione frowned, clearly deep in thought.

"What's this about Warding?" said the eldest Weasley – the rebel.

Ginny came up behind him. "How is everyone?"

"Perfectly well, thank you." Said Maia. Hermione, lost in analysis, did not respond.

The eldest Weasley, loping along in an easy, confident stride, asked again, "So, Warding?"

Maia raised an eyebrow at him, "Why do you ask?"

"Professional interest."

"How so?"

He regarded her carefully. His gaze, while open and friendly, betrayed a hint of wariness beneath which Maia, after all Cassiopeia's training, could not fail to miss. "I'm a Curse Breaker, Miss. Black."

She inclined her head, "For Gringotts?"

"Yes."

"And do you then speak Gobbledegook?"

"Yes."

She nodded, absorbing the information. He might have some future use.

"So, Miss. Black, what's this about Warding?" He was still smiling, and she watched him closely. He actually looked _disposed_ to like her, which given the history she had with his youngest brother, and the long-standing feud between the Malfoys and the Weasleys that dated back to the 13th century, genuinely took her by surprise.

"Hermione and I were discussing the relative Dark and Light aspects of Blood Wards."

"And what conclusion did you come to?"

Maia almost scoffed, as if she would give a complete stranger, an unknown quantity, her personal opinion regarding-

"-I think I agree with you, Maia." Said Hermione triumphantly, cutting across Maia's train of indignant thought and her attempt at discretion. Hermione looked around, slightly surprised at the growing crowd. "Oh, hello Bill, Ginny. Anyway, Maia, I think I agree with you. After all, if we agree with the First Principle of Merlin, that all magic is a matter of intent, then a spell or form of Magic is neither Light nor Dark, only the intent behind it can be classed as such. So, while _some_ spells do only require a Dark intent, not _all_ spells do so."

She paused, frowned, and took breath before ploughing on briskly, "Because, when you consider it, even a spell like Wingardiam Leviosa could have a Dark intent. If I say, levitated you over a cliff, and let you fall, with the intent of causing murder, then I have used a quintessentially Light spell, taught to all Hogwarts first years, for a purpose undoubtedly Dark."

Bill nodded, "That's very well reasoned. And very true. Sometimes, when Curse Breaking, it's the simplest of spells that have the Darkest intent in a Ward, but because they are so simple, they are overlooked and cause immense damage." He paused, "However, I should also warn you that some spells, and some magic, are inherently Dark and Light, because the spell and intent are so closely bound. The Patronus Charm is a good example, for the Light. It can only be cast with hope and love and happiness. And, well, I'm not going to tell you about the Dark."

"The Unforgivables." Said Maia automatically, not noticing the uncomfortable looks the others shared, "There's no potential for those spells to be used for Light purposes. So, I suppose, Weasley, that I agree with you as well."

Bill looked oddly surprised and pleased, if not a little shocked at her knowledge of untoward spells.

Hermione nodded, "I suppose, was that in the book you gave me? Some of the pages were blank."

"Oh no, I had Aunt Cassiopeia charm them so only those with Black blood can see them. Some are family spells, you see, and some, well, aren't the sort of thing that I thought you'd like, even if it's just for intellectual curiosity."

Hermione was still for a moment, "I... thank you."

Maia smiled, though it was a little thin, "You're welcome."

Ginny coughed and said primly, "As intellectually stimulating as I'm sure this conversation is for those who can understand it, I happen to be privy to a certain piece of information in which a certain Miss. Black might be interested."

Maia raised an eyebrow, amused. Ginny's wit was not a one-off occurrence. "And what might that be?"

"The name Morgy stuck."

She laughed ruthlessly, "Brilliant."

...

"So, Mrs. Black, I was wondering if you might like to direct the setting up of our tents. As our resident muggle."

Caroline looked over at his eager face, "Would it not be easier to set them up with magic?"

He looked spectacularly crestfallen, "We _are _meant to be keeping a low profile."

She chewed her lips. They were most definitely _not_ keeping a low profile. The Malfoy's tent, which they had passed on their way, was a practically palatial in its design and proportions, and could only have been created and maintained by magic. Such were Narcissa's tastes. And Lucius was clearly flying the banner for the House of Malfoy, having brought along a selection of their finest peacocks.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Weasley, that I would not be able to direct such an undertaking. I've never put up a tent in my life."

"Oh, well, no matter, I suppose. Though it would have been such an interesting-"

Caroline shook her head. Did he have to look quite so disappointed? "But perhaps Harry or Hermione might be able to help?"

"What a splendid idea!"

...

In the end, Harry and Hermione were left to put up the tents Mr. Weasley had got from his colleague, while he struggled with the matches, and Sirius put up the girls' tent with a simple flick of his wand. It was probably more than their needs allowed, but, as Caroline reasoned, she was no longer young and should be allowed the creature comforts her wealth afforded her. She had her own room, whilst the three girls would be able to share a room (she thought they might enjoy a sleep over) with two working bathrooms and a small kitchen neither she nor Maia had any idea how to use.

Once the simple task of setting up the beds was complete (they did Hermione's for her in her absence) Maia and Ginny were sent off with the boys to fetch water, in, as Caroline termed it, a supervisory capacity.

It turned out that this was needed, as the twins messed about so much they spilt half of what they collected. By the time they returned, the tents had finally been put up, Mr. Weasley seemed marginally less wary of Sirius, and Caroline and Hermione had retreated to their tent to wrap up warm for the match. The boys ran off to collect mementos, the girls went separately, and then, when they returned, they all made their way in the direction of the stadium.

The night was falling, and the match set to begin...

...


	17. The Night Descending

**As ever, I do not own Harry Potter, but I hope you like the chapter regardless...**

**Trigger Warning: Violence/Anger/Death Eaters.**

Chapter Sixteen_ ~ The Night Descending _

It was a long walk up to the stands, a long and tense walk.

The Weasleys, the Malfoys, the Blacks in an enclosed space with a stadium full of potential witnesses did not for a happy feeling make.

"Who do you think will throw the first curse?"

"Sorry?" Maia turned back to see Ginny trudging up the stairs behind her, grinning.

"Who do you think'll throw the first curse? Sirius, my dad, or Malfoy?"

Maia let out a hiss. "How can you be so blasé? This is a potentially disastrous social situation. Our reputations could be publicly tarnished!"

The red-haired girl shrugged casually, looking, for a moment, rather pretty. No wonder she was popular. "Well, I'm hoping they don't kill each other – that _would_ be unfortunate – but we have to try and make it interesting. They're bound to trade a few insults. Last time my dad saw Malfoy, they ended up brawling on the floor of Flourish and Blotts. We might as well bet on it. My brothers have a pool, you see, and I thought you might want in."

Maia paused for a moment, and shook her head. "Don't you realise? The last time Sirius and Uncle Lucius saw each other must have been during the war. And they would have been on opposite sides."

Ginny raised her hands in defeat, "Good point, that would influence the odds."

"I didn't mean it like that." Snapped Maia.

"I know you didn't, but why stress about something you can't control? Live and let live. You have to enjoy what you can – and I'm enjoying betting on the upcoming encounter."

Maia watched her closely. Ginny gave no indication of a personal grudge against Uncle Lucius. None at all. It was actually rather... _impressive_. Because the Weasleys must know who to blame for the diary. Ronald was _there_.

"Your hair looks very nice this evening."

Ginny blinked, stunned silent for a moment. "Thank you – I'm trying to grow it out of the bob."

"You should – long hair will suit you. And Aunt Cassiopeia thinks that long hair is far more appropriate for a young witch."

Finally, they reached the Minister's Box. They settled themselves in the seats – Caroline politely demanding that the Blacks have the middle seats in the first row. Maia nodded inwardly, as this placed them as a buffer between the Weasleys and the Malfoys, with whom the Blacks were, at least superficially, good terms, while Mr. Weasley might fly into a rage the moment he laid eyes on the man who had deliberately harmed his only daughter.

And then Maia sighed internally.

So many secrets.

So many lies.

So much hurt.

It was enough to tire someone twice her age, and again, she had no idea how her Aunt Cassiopeia did it. But that was life. And, truth be told, she was a Black, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

They had barely sat down before the Malfoys arrived. Caroline's hand clamped on Sirius' wrist as Uncle Lucius entered. The former twitched while the latter smirked. A quick glance along the row showed that the two eldest Weasley boys were discretely restraining their father. Again, she found she approved of them.

"Good evening, Lucius." Said Caroline, leaning across Sirius. "I trust you are looking forward to the match. I remember how you used to dote on Maia and dear Draco every weekend, taking them to all the games."

Lucius inclined his head, "Indeed."

Next to him, Narcissa stiffened. "It has been too long, Caroline. We have not seen each other in almost two weeks."

"We have been busy."

Narcissa glanced at Harry. "That you have, perhaps you could introduce me to your new ward?"

"Of course, please excuse me. Narcissa, this is Mr. Harry James Potter. Harry, this is Mrs. Narcissa Druella Malfoy."

Harry bowed from his seat, somewhat awkwardly. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa smiled thinly, "Likewise, Mr. Potter. I trust you are already acquainted with my son?"

The two boys glared at each other...

By the time the rather frosty introductions were done, and Draco and Uncle Lucius had switched seats so he could sit next to Maia, and the Minister had arrived, which set off another wave of not-so-frosty introductions, Mr. Weasley had gained enough control to greet Lucius.

Draco leant over in his chair slightly as the adults around them exchanged thinly veiled insults, "How are you coping living with Potter? Do you need me to mount a rescue mission yet?" He was looking towards the stadium, his lips barely moving. Maia copied him, settling her gaze in a slightly different direction. Unless anyone cared to look or listen, it would appear as though neither were talking.

"It's surprisingly easy."

"Have you gone soft on me?"

"My apologies, cousin."

He shook his head minutely, "You should be careful, Maia. Everyone walks a tightrope in this world, even us. Actually, _especially_ us."

"I am and I know."

"Promise me anyway."

"I promise."

"Good."

"Perhaps you'll come to see things from me point of view?"

He stole a glance towards his father, "I doubt it."

"Maybe one day."

"It would have to be a long time, a very long time."

"Well, I'd wait forever for you."

"And I'll watch your back forever, when the rest of Slytherin try to stab you."

"They wouldn't dare – Tracey, Daphne and I are still going to be the Slytherin Princesses. Most of the House aren't that political anyway, they'll just follow whoever they think will win. It's rather weak of them, when one reflects on it, and not particularly ambitious either."

Draco stifled a groan, "It's things like that which are going to get you into trouble, sister."

She shrugged, "Oh look, the show's starting."

...

The girls lay back in their sleeping bags, giggling. Caroline had just told them – for a third time – to stop talking and go to sleep.

"Perhaps we _ought_ to go to sleep." Whispered Hermione.

Maia shrugged, "Or we could just cast a silencing charm. We should have thought of it earlier."

Ginny shook her head, "Too obvious. Silence would attract attention. You need some sort of muffling charm."

"I haven't heard any of those."

"Fred and George know some – apparently, absolute silence is too suspicious."

Maia nodded, "It makes sense."

Hermione shook her head, "You two are unbelievable. We're not at school. We can't do magic."

"I do magic at home all the time – the Ministry can't prove it unless your parents tell them."

"That's beside the point." Said Hermione, her voice exasperated.

Ginny laughed and patted Hermione's hand, "It's ok, we love you anyway. Even if you are as bad as McGonagall."

They settled into a companionable silence for a moment.

Abruptly, Ginny sat back and started braiding and re-braiding her hair. "Can I talk to you two, seriously?"

Maia frowned. She did not want to talk seriously to someone she barely knew. Even if they were _growing_ on her.

Of course, Hermione nodded. "What's the matter?"

"Well, you're Harry's best friend, and Maia, you're living with him, so I just... I wanted to ask, if he, well, if he still thinks I have that stupid crush on him." She said the last of it all so quickly that had Maia not been listening closely, she would have missed it entirely.

Hermione blinked, "I thought you still did?"

Ginny twisted her hair, "I did until the end of first year, but then I stopped being so stupid. I mean, I'd never really spoken to him, and then, well," she glanced at Maia, not sure what to say, assuming Maia was in the dark about the Chamber, but trusting that Hermione would understand enough, "he helped me out of a tight spot. Since then, I've just been too embarrassed and ashamed. I mean, I still _like_ him, sort of, but I'm not sure. I don't want him to think, well, I just want him _not_ to notice me, to be honest. Or, to not look at me and see the girl who put her elbow in the butter dish..." she trailed away, staring at her blankets and blushing furiously. "I keep doing stupid things like that as well, blushing and running away. It's ridiculous – and not _me_ at all."

Maia frowned and shook her head, "He's never mentioned you, to be honest, so you shouldn't worry. Just ignore him. It's the best course action regarding any boy who's a Gryffindor. You should look the Slytherins, if you're determined to make your own arrangements. They're generally much more eligible."

Hermione chocked slightly, stumbling to interject but not sure what part of Maia's speech she ought to address first, "Ginny, don't listen to her. Maia's just..."

Ginny laughed lightly, "Maia's rude, but apparently honest, and I'd rather he didn't notice me at all, than see a stupid girl with a stupid crush on someone she doesn't even know."

Hermione tilted her head, "I doubt Harry thinks about you like that. And I doubt he thinks _badly_ of you. Just, well, just act around him like you do around the rest of us."

Ginny sighed, "But that's just it! I can't!" She finished by burying her head in the hands dramatically.

Hermione let out a huff, "Then ignore him, like Maia said. If you act like he's not there, maybe you'll act like yourself. And stop worrying – he's only a boy. Your studies are far more important right now."

The girls all giggled at that, even Hermione, and Caroline shushed them from the other side of the tent.

They were quiet for a moment, and Ginny frowned.

"Did you hear that?"

...

"Narcissa!" said Lucius, shaking his wife hurriedly. "Nacissa, wake up! You have to take Draco and go. Now!"

She sat up and started pulling on her dressing gown, "Lucius, whatever's going on?"

He snatched up her wand and pressed it into her hand, "Take Draco and go. There isn't time for this." He looked at her for a moment, gripping her shoulders as though they were his anchor at sea.

Narcissa could hear something is the distance, a roar of some sort. Thunder, perhaps?

"What's going on?"

Lucius was silent for his moment, and the thunder in the distance seemed to grow ever more disconcerting. He sighed and hung his head. He reached down slowly, and pulled up his left sleeve.

It's been getting darker for months."

Every drop of blood drained from her face. She lost focus on the world for a moment, staring at the Dark Mark on his arm. She heard nothing but the thumping of blood in her ears.

"You didn't tell me." Her voice was off... distant.

"I was trying to protect you."

"And what a splendid job you've _done_!" She snapped, dragging herself up out of the bed and frantically tying the gown together. Her fingers trembled. Her movements now were hurried, rushed and fearful.

"I'm sorry."

His shoulders sagged. All pride gone.

"You almost _ruined_ us before, serving him! Only Cassiopeia saved us, and then you _betrayed_ her! You betrayed _us_! I am _still_ a Black. _How_ could you? _How_ could you do that?" Her voice was shrill. Everything was happening, all at once, when it had been so sedate before. When she had had so much time, before. Time to consider. Time to plan. Time to decide. But time had caught up with her, run out, and left her standing in a tent in her dressing gown with all the things she had ever feared staring her in the face.

"You know?"

"Salazar, of course I know! I don't know what you did, but I'm not a fool, Lucius. Give me some credit. I've noticed how they look at you, how they hold themselves at a distance, how they don't turn their backs. And now you hide _this_? Do you truly care so little for our family?"

"Cissa, you know I care for _nothing_ but our family."

She pushed him away. "You care for _nothing_ but yourself!"

"Cissa-"

"I told you, begged you, years ago to clear every Dark object from our home. I told you that I wanted nothing more to do with the Dark Arts. They destroyed my family. They lost me _both_ my sisters – I won't lose anything else to them. I'm standing with Cassiopeia, Lucius. And I'm not sure I care where you stand anymore."

...

Caroline told the girls to stay in the tent, but they followed out behind her, pulling on cloaks over their nightgowns, and boots on sockless feet.

Caroline stared into the sky, her mouth open in silent horror at the sight in front of her.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Maia looked on, not really hearing the loud sounds, the screams, the yells. No, she heard nothing, but she saw it all, saw the way those people rotated, and turned to look at her mother's stricken, frozen face...

And then, suddenly, the world snapped back into focus.

...


	18. The Night Burning

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**Trigger Warning: Violence, Muggle-Baiting etc.**

Chapter Seventeen_ ~ The Night Burning_

And then, suddenly, the world snapped back into focus.

Horribly into focus.

The screaming, the roaring filled her ears, and she realised that it was coming from from her, from the burning, twisting hate in her stomach.

She pulled out her wand, running in front of her mother.

As _they_ came closer.

Came right towards them.

Aiming for them.

_They_ – _They _with rotating bodies, and the crying children.

_They – They _who made her mother's face take on that look, that un-nameable, un-knowable look...

"FILTH!" She shouted, holding out her wand and firing off the first hex that came to mind as one of the masked men turned his gaze, turned his wand, on Caroline –

And Maia felt herself thrown – bodily – backwards and Sirius was diving in front of them both, his arm still flung out from pushing her away. She scrabbled on the floor, in the mud, pulling herself back to her feet, and sliding back down.

They were converging on them.

The Weasley boys ran forwards, Mr. Weasley calling back, "Bill, get her out of here! NOW!"

Maia pulled herself out of the way as the red-haired man, the rebel, ran past, vanishing as soon as his hand made contact with Caroline's arm. Someone hauled her to her feet, dragging her backwards. It was Ron. The others were already running.

He must have come back for her.

_Why?_

Even in the middle of the chaos, the question came to her.

Sirius turned, throwing himself out of the way of a shot of curse-light. Maia felt bile in her throat, and she and Ron both seemed unable to move, locked in place, staring at the charred patch of grass where the curse had struck.

"RUN!"

...

"_You care for nothing but yourself!"_

"_Cissa-"_

"_I told you, begged you, years ago to clear every Dark object from your home. I told you that I wanted nothing more to do with the Dark Arts. They destroyed my family. They lost me both my sisters – I won't lose anything else to them. I'm standing with Cassiopeia, Lucius. And I'm not sure I care where you stand anymore."_

Lucius stood still, frozen motionless, frozen solid.

"I swear, Narcissa, I will stand wherever I have to, will do whatever I have to, in order to keep you and Draco safe." His voice was desperate, half-broken, half-caught in his throat in unspoken desperation. "You know you speak a lie, when you say I don't care. You know you speak a lie, when you say that I don't love you."

She turned to look at him, their eyes locked, and she nodded. "I know." She paused. "But that doesn't exactly count for much in the cold light of day, in light of what has happened, is happening. You have lied, Lucius. You have betrayed me. All of us."

"It still counts for everything. It will always count."

She hugged herself and turned away, silent.

Lucius watched her turn, his heart breaking in his chest. "I've only ever sought to protect you, both of you."

"It doesn't look that way. The Dark Lord... the treachery..."

"I thought he would win!" He cried, throwing his arms in the air. "I know it only put us in danger. I know that now, but then... but then I only knew-"

"You served him. You agreed with him."

"So did you."

She was still for a moment. "I have never loved anyone except my family, and never cared for anything beyond its welfare. Perhaps that it is wrong..."

"It's not wrong. Narcissa, I love you. Our family. I will always love you." He crossed the tent, standing in front of her and reaching out to cup her face, lifting it to meet his gaze. "I love you."

She closed her eyes. "I love you too."

They were silent.

And what before had been a dull noise in the background was now rising into a deafening crescendo.

She gasped for breath as her eyes flew open. "They're coming."

"I swear, I knew nothing, _nothing_, of their plans."

"What are they doing?"

"Muggle-baiting."

Her heart stopped.

"Caroline."

He nodded once.

"Go and get Cassiopeia. I'll take Draco. We'll hide."

He moved his hands away from her face and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, crushing her against him, then stepped away just as suddenly. "Act as though I'm with them. If they think you're still loyal-"

"-they won't touch me, or Draco. I know. Not if they think I'm loyal."

He nodded once. "I love you." He said again, before vanishing with a sharp 'pop'.

...

"_RUN!"_

They ran.

Ron's grip on her hand was tight – painful – as he pulled her along while her legs flailed in the slippery mud. He could run much faster than her, and an odd feeling of gratitude struck her.

They caught up with Harry and Hermione, the rest of the Weasley children were lost in the crowd, and Maia found herself twisting and turning to look for a red-haired girl.

And then she was being pulled along, pulled away, dragged away, in a heaving crowd of bodies, of people rushing and running and screaming and calling, calling for help, for their children, for anything and anyone at all, though they were all moving together, in one giant heaving mass of humanity.

And her hand slipped from Ron's grasp.

...

Caroline turned, trying to take in her surroundings, when the young man vanished again, his wand ready in his hand for whatever might be waiting for him.

A woman – Molly – was running forwards, her hair flying out, her feet bare, her face deathly pale.

"_My children?"_

Her voice was pleading.

Caroline, wordlessly, staggered towards the table, doubling up over it.

The last thing she remembered: her own powerless horror, and her own child running straight out, straight out in front of _her_, into the path of those _beasts_.

She shook her head, her shoulders shaking, and chocked on her words and her tears and her horror.

...

Narcissa knelt on the ground, unaware of her gown in the mud, of her unkempt hair, of the grazes on her face from the thicket they'd cut a path through. She clutched both of her son's hands in her own.

"If they find us, if we see them, we think your father is with them. Do you understand? _We think your father is with them._"

Draco, his face bloodless, nodded. "I understand." He deliberately turned his head away from the distant noise. They were hidden in the forest, safe. "Maia?"

Narcissa's hands trembled. "She's with Cousin Sirius. He won't let anything happen to her."

"How can we trust him?"

"He's family, we have to trust him."

...

Harry, Ron and Hermione gasped for breath, panting heavily. Hermione clutched her side, looking faint. She wheezed.

Ron reached to grab her, and set her down on the ground. "Hermione?"

She held up a hand, gasping again. "Fine... Just, need a moment... Pettigrew..."

The two boys crouched down next to her.

Harry pulled off his robe, wrapping it around his friend. "Where do you think the others are?"

Ron looked around them. Around the thick trunks of the trees, they could still see people running, vanishing into the woods as best they could. "I don't know... I lost hold of Black."

Harry nodded once. "She'll be fine." His voice was as firm as he could make it.

They were silent for a moment, when they heard the sounds of feet running towards them. They drew their wands, as Draco and Narcissa Malfoy appeared through the trees. Their wands were also drawn.

"We thought it was your voices we heard." Said Narcissa.

She was suddenly very still.

"Where's Maia?"

...

Caroline took a few deep breaths, holding tightly onto the mug of tea. "Thank you."

Molly nodded, "You're welcome."

They sat in silence, listening, desperately, to every word which came though the wireless.

As the reports came through, their hands reached across the scrubbed, wooden table. They clasped onto each other, holding each other tightly, crossing a vast expanse which in that moment seemed so small – so small and insignificant – that they suddenly had no idea how it had ever come to exist, yet alone even matter.

...

"Stay here."

"Mother?"

Narcissa stared at her son and said in a tone which brokered no argument, "Actually, as soon as the girl is able, get her up, and keep running into the forest. Run as far as you can, as fast as you can. I'll find you later. And hide. Don't approach anyone. Don't trust anyone. If you think you know someone _make them prove who they are_. Do you understand?"

Draco, his knuckles white around his wand, nodded.

"Good."

And then she vanished.

...

Narcissa materialised and began pushing her way through the crowd, running towards the oncoming Death Eaters. Someone must have gotten the muggles away, because now it was simply an all-out mass duel. She dodged a curse, flinging herself out of the way with seconds to spare, and threw something even worse back, not bothering to check if she hit her mark. She didn't particularly care.

She elbowed a man, she didn't know who, out of her way, and kicked another in the shins. She felt something sharp strike her face, and winced. She sent a hex at the nearest Death Eater, and started running again.

She finally saw him.

She pushed her way past more fighters, "Sirius! Cousin Siri!"

He turned to her and blinked. He barked out a laugh. "Cissy? Aren't you on the wrong side?" He dodged a curse with ease and sent his opponent flying backwards.

She shrugged and ducked out of the way of a curse, with far less grace than her cousin. Sirius pulled her to her feet.

"I had a change of heart."

"When was this?"

"About the same time I saw you in Azkaban, when I realised everything I had lost, to gain nothing." Her words caught her by surprise, and she realised that she and Sirius were standing in the middle of an all out battle, with their eyes locked and their hands clasped.

They were silent, and then Sirius pushed her away, separating them suddenly as a burst of dark blue light shot between them.

Brought back to her senses – violently – she pulled him away from the fight. He protested.

"No. Sirius. I came back for you. I came back to tell you about Maia. She's missing. The children got separated. They don't know where she is."

And then they were both running.

...

Sirius ran through the forest, wand in hand, crying out as he went. His voice desperate, strangled.

"_MAIA!" _

...


	19. The Night Blazing

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Eighteen_ ~ The Night Blazing _

Mai ran, lifting up her now tattered hem of her nightgown in order to go faster. She wished she had held onto Weasley tighter. Now she was alone, running blindly in the dark, with the screams carrying through the night behind her, and she couldn't have made her legs stop, even if she had wanted to try.

Run.

Run.

Run.

And then she fell, yelling and howling in pain, but still, somehow, managing to hear the sound of a sickening 'crack'.

...

Narcissa ran through the forest, her heart in her throat.

Run.

Run.

Run.

Run and find Maia.

Run and find Draco.

Run and pray that Lucius was safe.

Run and pray that they would all, somehow, someway, be safe.

Run and know that she was, and always had been, a fool.

A fool living a lie.

_Nobody ever truly escaped the Dark Lord_.

And so she ran, hating him more than she ever had before.

Because everything could have been so perfect.

...

"_MAIA!"_

He stopped, listening, tears running down his face, before he steeled himself and ran again.

"MAIA!"

And he ran, and ran, and ran.

...

"They're attacking the World Cup!"

He ran to the staircase, gripping at the banister as he fought to catch his breath, wondering how he could have even lost it. This was no moment for failure.

Cassiopeia appeared at the top of the stairs, in her nightgown and cap. "What?"

Lucius gasped for breath again, his chest heaving, "Death Eaters are attacking the World Cup."

Cassiopeia staggered forwards, catching herself on the railing. He ran halfway up the stairs before he met her gaze and stilled.

"I was a fool, Cassiopeia. I was a fool, and you have my loyalty, and my honour, and my debt, and my gold and whatever else in Salazar's name you want to have – as long as you help me keep Cissa and Draco safe."

He sunk to his knees.

"I mean it, Cassiopeia." He pulled up his sleeve again. "This time I show it to beg. I beg for Cissa, only for her, and for Draco. I'm begging for their sakes. I'm begging you to help me save them. Because _he's_ coming back. Please, I'm begging you, and there isn't even time for it."

She nodded once, and ran back into her room, appearing moments later fully dressed with her night cap discarded.

She held out her hand, "If you would be so kind?"

He bowed, took her hand in his, clasping them together, as they both vanished, leaving the House as still and silent has it had been only a few moments before.

...

As Cassiopeia watched him beg, all she saw was a future and past of war and barbarism intertwined.

And, amidst that, the hurt face of a little girl from the day before.

"_I thought I said I didn't want to see either of you until __after__ the Salazar-forsaken match."_

...

"Jesus, Black, are y' ok?"

She looked up, seeing the two boys run towards her. She drew her wand, her hand unsteady. "Prove yourselves."

They both came to a halt, eyeing the wand point warily, "Black, we could hear the scream quarter of a mile away. You're hurt."

"_Prove. Your. Selves."_

Seamus and Dean looked at each other, and Seamus turned back to Maia. He crouched down on the ground in front of her. "Black..."

She gritted her teeth, "_I. Said. Prove. Your. Selves_."

Her lips trembled.

Seamus nodded, "Ok, how?"

She looked at him closely, "What was the first thing you ever said to me, right back in our first week at Hogwarts?"

Seamus frowned for a moment then looked away. "I think said 'good riddance'." His voice was quiet.

Maia turned to Dean, "And you? What did you do?"

He shrugged, "I don't think I said anything, I think I just laughed along with the others."

She nodded briskly, "Thank you." They were all silent for a moment. "Aren't you going to make me prove myself?"

Seamus laughed shakily, "Na, I only know one person as dragon-dung crazy as you. And nobody else could pull it off in quite the same way."

She swallowed and looked at the ground. "Could you please help me?"

The two boys looked at each other again, and Dean frowned. "Why do you think we just ran here?" he said.

"Well, you didn't know it was me then."

"Yeah, well, we didn't know who it was at all, did we? And we still came. I mean, maybe if you'd been one of those lot in the masks..."

"Death Eaters. They're called Death Eaters." She answered, her voice tight.

Seamus just shook his head, looking for a heartbeat as though he might say something. He hooked one of Maia's arms over his shoulder. "If I take your weight, do you think you can hobble along with us?"

Not trusting herself to talk, Maia nodded once, and they set off slowly, making their way deeper into the dark shadows of the forest, with Seamus' hand firmly clasped around Maia's.

...

Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione walked quickly through the forest.

"Hey guys, I think... I think I lost my wand."

"What?"

"Oh well done, Potter."

"Shut it, Malfoy."

Hermione sighed, "Harry, are you sure? You had it earlier, when we ran into Malfoy and his mum. When did you last see it?"

He thought back, "I had it in my pocket... but I fell over. A few times." He finished quietly.

"Brilliant. Absolutely fantastic. I'm surrounded-"

"You aren't helping, Malfoy." Snapped Hermione.

"Well neither is Potter."

Harry sighed, "Let's just keep going. There's nothing to be done now."

But never had he wanted his wand quite so badly.

...

Hermione had started to lag behind, Pettigrew's curse still lingering slightly.

"Is there any way to make her go faster?"

Ron's face darkened, "Back off, Malfoy."

Draco sneered. "It's for her benefit too, or has it never occurred to you to think that of all of us, she's in the most danger right now? Well, apart from Potter. At least _she's_ still got her wand."

Harry shrugged it off, "Come on, we have to keep moving."

They set off again, when a sudden roar filled the sky.

"MOSMORDE!"

...

Narcissa stopped suddenly, looking up. And truly, in that moment, the moment her eyes locked on the image in the sky, her heart stopped.

...

Sirius stared up, pausing for a moment, before he ran on. He had to find Maia. _Had to_.

...

Lucius and Cassiopeia appeared the moment the words rang out, and seemed to hang in the air.

Their hands were still clasped when they looked up in unison, to see the Mark hanging, suspended, in the sky.

...

Caroline's and Molly's hands suddenly tightened.

The reporter's voice shook.

"We regret – deeply regret to inform our listeners –that it is now being reported that the Dark Mark has been cast into the sky. We repeat, the Dark Mark has been cast into the sky."

...

Seamus, Maia and Dean all came to a halt.

Maia saw it and quickly looked away, down at the ground again, while Dean continued to look up. "What the ruddy hell is that?"

Seamus pushed his free hand through his hair, deliberately averting his gaze. He knew that he didn't want to see it. "It's the Dark Mark, Dean. It's You-Know-Who's Mark."

"Why...?" Dean's voice trailed away.

"They only cast it when someone's been killed." Said Maia flatly.

Seamus shook her in reproach, from where he still took her weight. "Nobody's been killed." He said firmly, "Can't you hear the noise is dying off? It's just some sick Death Eater, trying to scare us before he crawls away had hides like the bloody coward he is. This is all the work of a bunch of sick, bored, Death Eaters. We're all fine. We'll fine me Ma soon enough, and Maia's family, and we'll all be fine."

Maia nodded, "I'm sorry, Finnegan's right. Let's keep moving."

Seamus helped her as they set off once more, "You know, I'd like to suggest that this evening might have brought on a new level of familiarity between us."

"You do?"

He laughed and nodded, "My name is Seamus, and his name is Dean. I'd like to think that once I've been on the run from Death Eater's with someone, I've earned the right to call them by their given name."

Maia winced as she tried to clamber over a large root, "And is this a long-standing thought, one newly formed, or the only one you've ever had."

Dean laughed. "That's good."

Seamus shrugged, "Well, it's a good distraction technique from that damn thing up above, isn't it? So what do you say?"

"Very well, you may call me Maia."

...

The four children dived as the stunners shot towards them, and Arthur Weasley ran forwards.

"Stop! That's my son! That's my son!"

...

"Thank Godric!"

Sirius appeared with a 'pop' and ran towards the group. Moments later, Narcissa was close on his heels. She snatched Draco up, holding him tightly and stroking his hair. Sirius pulled Harry into a fierce hug, spinning him round, and then stopped suddenly.

"Maia isn't here."

Draco disentangled himself from Narcissa's grasp, "Didn't you go to look for her?"

Sirius nodded, "Yes, but we apparated to the Mark like everyone else still here. You mean that you haven't met back up with her?"

Hermione shook her head, wringing her hands as she leant on Ron for support, "We've been walking for ages, but we haven't seen _anyone_. _We'd_ hoped that _you'd _found her."

Arthur Weasley looked around the forest helplessly, "So Maia Black is still unaccounted for, do we know if anyone else is still missing?"

A dark-haired woman stepped out of the small crowd, "Yes, my son and his friend, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas."

Arthur stepped forward, "Margaret O'Connor, yes? You were a few years below me in Gryffindor. We'll find your boys, maybe they've all run into each other. They're in Ron and Harry's year, aren't they?"

She nodded stiffly, "Yes... And it's Finnegan now."

"Of course."

Sirius pulled at his hair, having put Harry down. "Come on, let's go look for them. They can't be in any trouble now, all the Death Eaters have cleared off. We just have to find them." His voice sounded about as convincing as he felt. His stomach twisted itself uncomfortably.

Sirius turned round, crouching in front of Harry, "You'll be fine here, with Aunt Narcissa and Mr. Weasley, won't you? While I go and find Maia?"

Harry nodded, "Do you want me to come help?"

Sirius shook his head, "No, it'll be fine. Mrs. Finnegan and I will look for them."

"We'll help." Said Bill and Charlie, stepping forwards.

Arthur smiled at his boys.

...

"I think we're lost." Said Dean, coming to a halt.

Maia sighed and pushed away from Seamus, staggering over to a tree and sliding down against it to sit on the cold, wet ground. "I can't go any further."

Seamus nodded, "That Mark's gone. We should be safe now anyway." He sat down next to Maia and rubbed the back of his neck wearily. "I'm glad Da couldn't come now."

Maia closed her eyes as she rested her head on the tree trunk, "Why? I'd quite like another adult to be looking for us."

"He's a muggle."

"Oh." She paused, "I wish mother _hadn't_ come. Her face, when they came past our tent..." She trailed away, shaking her head. "Filth." She said, simply.

Seamus nodded.

They fell into silence.

"What does your father do, then, if he's a muggle?"

Seamus glanced over at Dean, who was determinedly trying to scrape the worst of the mud off the bottom of his trainers, where it had all clumped together. "He's a maths teacher, at the local grammar."

"Grammar?"

Seamus laughed, shaking his head as he did. "Purebloods. It's a type of school – for the kids who pass the entrance exam. He was the one who made me take Arithmacy, you know. It was something he could get, sort of."

Maia nodded, "I took Muggle Studies, to try and please my late father."

Seamus was silent, not quite sure how to respond to that. Dean threw a snapped twig away in disgust, "It's no use."

Suddenly, Seamus held up a hand, "I think I heard something."

Maia frowned, "I can't hear anything."

Seamus hushed her with an impatient wave, "Nah, I definitely heard something."

"_SEAMUS! ... SHAY!"_

"_MAIA!"_

Suddenly, Seamus broke out into laughter, stood up, and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"WE'RE OVER HER, MA. ME AND DEAN BOTH. AND WE FOUND MAIA BLACK TOO."

They heard the footsteps and the cracking of roots first, before a woman, Sirius and the two eldest Weasley boys trampled into the clearing.

Margaret Finnegan was flushed red from the running and the stress, but she crossed the clearing faster than any of the men and pulled her son – who was already a good few inches taller than her – into a hug before pushing him away and drawing her wand.

"If you _ever_ make me worry like that again-" sparks shot out of her wand as she waved it with anger.

"We were hiding, Ma. You told us to hide." He was grinning at her as she shook with rage.

"_I couldn't find you_."

They clasped each other at the elbows.

He shrugged, "Well if you couldn't find me, I reckon the Death Eaters would have missed us as well." His laughter stopped, "You are alright, Ma. Aren't you? Did you _have _to go after them? What would Da have said?"

"Yes I did and no I don't care what your Da has to say about it." She answered hotly, "Those lot all should have been locked up a decade ago."

Finally stepping back from her son, Margaret turned to Dean to check on him and then turned, lastly, to Maia. The older woman's wand twitched in her hand and she stepped back, doing a slight double take. "Sweet Merlin-" she stopped and shook herself. "My apologies, I went to school with your aunts."

Maia nodded quickly, knowing full well _which_ aunt she was talking about.

"Sirius, I think I broke my ankle." He leant over, picked it up and nodded. A sharp 'rap' with his wand sent it back into place and she howled again. "You could have _warned_ me." She snarled, baring her teeth.

He laughed, "You look even more like her when you pull that face. And no, a warning would have made it worse. Trust me. It'll be a bit sore – healing's never been my forte – but it'll be fine in a day or so."

She nodded and pulled herself back to her feet.

Sirius turned to the two boys, making a semi-bow in their direction. "I have to thank you, for my House, for looking after our daughter and Heir."

Seamus shrugged, "We could hardly have left her."

Sirius smiled at him, and then smiled down again at his daughter as she linked her arm through his. "Can we go and check on mother, now?"

His daughter, holding his arm.

It was, in that moment, a dream emerging from a nightmare.

Bill stepped forwards, "I took Mrs. Black to Mum at the Burrow, we can take you there if you want."

Sirius shook his head, "It's alright, I went a few times with Gideon and Fabian. We'll see you there?"

The two boys nodded, and father and daughter vanished into the night.

...


	20. The Night Weeping

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**Trigger Warning: Grief/cursing/blasphemy.**

Chapter Nineteen _~ The Night Weeping_

"Mother!"

Maia pulled out of Sirius' grasp and ran headlong into the Burrow. She didn't even bother to pick up the tattered hem of her nightgown as she made her way, with her awkward gait, into the dilapidated cottage.

She didn't pause to see the weeds.

Or the falling-down walls.

Or the cracked facade.

Or the mis-matched, well-worn furniture once she made it through the door.

Her mother turned from where she stood before the stove, and they ran and held each other tightly.

In the background, the kettle whistled, and neither knew nor cared.

...

Her daughter should not have to defend her.

That was not the way the world worked.

That was not the way the world was supposed to work.

But thank God, thank God, her daughter was safe.

When they had come back, when all the rest had come back without her...

And when they had all been sitting here, waiting, not knowing...

The way they had looked at her...

The way their eyes had spoken...

This was a side of the magical world she had not experienced, and something in her aging bones told her she would experience it again, all too soon for her liking.

...

Ron Weasley looked on from the doorway, watching as mother and daughter gripped onto each other as if they were drowning.

For him, it settled a long-standing debate.

Black had a heart.

If she had nothing else going for her, she still had a heart.

And then he dragged his feet up the staircase, as his mother shooed him away.

...

Sirius turned back into the darkness of the garden, and the darkness of the night.

He sighed as he began to walk his way down the path, making the well-worn loop around the house. He had the others had made this walk plenty of times during the war. It was a place to pace and wait and think and worry. Yes, it had been well worn all those years ago, and the indent still remained even through the interceding years of peace.

The first war.

And second would come now, soon enough.

Too soon.

It was the walk one made when one didn't want to be in the house.

When there was something one didn't want to see.

And it was a walk he was making again now.

Because there was no longer a shred of doubt in his mind: Caroline was Maia's mother.

She was Maia, not Annie.

She was a Black, a Black like his cousins – the humane ones – and not a rebel like him.

He didn't need to save her.

She didn't need saving.

She had been saved all those years ago when he had been carted off, and she had been left a de facto orphan.

Marius and Caroline had saved her.

And had loved her, did love her still.

And he was there, an outsider.

Not wanted.

Not needed.

He shook his head and took a different turn, down towards the gap in the trees, where the bench still was, even after all these years.

Some things never change.

Put people always do.

He had changed. He was a grown man now, not a young one. Looking at Maia, running for her mother had damn near broke his heart, but at the same time healed it.

Because he was an outsider. Not wanted, not needed, but welcomed nonetheless.

And that mattered.

Because he wasn't _trying_ to fix things anymore, he _was_ fixing them. That had been his mantra since Harry's vision, since the letter, since Cassiopeia had given him the ring. He still loved Maia.

He loved her exactly as he found her.

He loved her as she was now.

Even when he wasn't the one she loved.

Wasn't the one she missed.

Wasn't the one for which she grieved.

Because he hoped that she would come to love him too.

Because, as he had come to realise, the capacity of the human heart knew no limits. There was no point at which it was full up.

He'd realised that the first time he'd held her as a newborn.

And he realised it again when he saw her just then. Saw her safe and alive and well.

And so, one day, she'd love him back.

And even if she didn't, he'd always love her.

And that was enough for him.

He kicked at the grass and sighed again, turning round to make his way back to the house. He frowned. A flicker of movement from the corner of his eye made him look back round. And for a moment, an instant, a heartbeat, a stern-looking man in a muggle suit looked back at him and nodded, as if with approval.

And then he was gone.

...

Cassiopeia all but pushed Molly Weasley out of the way as she stormed into the kitchen, pulling Maia out of Caroline's arms and into her own brief, fierce embrace.

"Never do that again."

"Yes, Aunt Cassiopeia."

...

Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas appeared back in the red-brick terraced house, each clutching the hand of Maggie Finnegan. Seamus tugged his hand free from his mother and crossed the living room floor in two strides, wrapping his arms around his father, where he had fallen asleep in his armchair before the fire.

The freshly graded school books and half-drunk cup of tea stood on the small table beside him.

And their old Collie dog lay asleep next to him.

All there.

All the same.

All safe.

All just as perfect as they were every day before.

He'd just never noticed.

Just never been grateful enough for it.

Daniel Finnegan blinked as his son's rough grip pulled him out of his slumber. He pushed himself up to sit, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "I didn't think you'd all be back so soon."

And after another blink, he took in their ruined clothes, their cuts and their bruises.

"Jesus Christ, what the bloody hell happened?"

...

Arthur put his hand on his wife's shoulder as she sunk down to sit on the edge of their bed.

She shook her head, brushing a tear away. "I'm just being silly."

"No, there's nothing silly about it."

"I just... I just thought I'd never have to feel that way again."

He sat down next to her, took of his glasses and carefully folded them before placing them on the side table. "I know." He shook his head. "To say goodbye, say goodnight, and to think it might have been the last time..."

"And the Mark." Her voice was broken. "When they announced it, it was all there again, going to see them, just... just popping over to say hello, and seeing that... seeing that over their house." He wrapped his arms around her as she buried her head in the crook of his shoulder, "I don't care how many they took out before they went... they still _went_."

"I know, love... I know."

"I couldn't bear it, Arthur. I couldn't bear it if it started again. I couldn't bear to think that I might lose one of them. I don't think I could bear it."

...

Remus stood up abruptly, crossing the room to turn off the wireless. He'd heard enough. He'd heard more than enough by this point in his life.

His gaze turned to the Floo and he wished Dora would come through it soon. Godric, he wanted her back here. If he had his way, she'd never leave this place again. Being an Auror was one thing, fighting Death Eaters was quite another.

He'd not lose her.

He laughed. She'd beat him with her broomstick if she ever found out he'd thought that.

But still... The thought of her fighting... The thought of her hurt...

The flames flared green and he was across the floor and holding her pressed against his chest before he'd even realised.

Tonks pulled back and kissed him. "I love you."

"I love you too."

...

"Dromeda?"

She shook her head, buried in her hands.

Ted knelt down in front of her. "It was just a bunch of the old crowd. You know they aren't really back. It's not like before."

"I know..."

"I know it's hard..."

She looked up. "Sometimes, I really hate Bella. Really do. But...You know..."

"That I don't know, but I do know that I love you."

"They'll start talking again, won't they?"

"Then let them talk. If they want to talk, let them talk 'til the cows come home. Bella's locked up – where she bloody well ought to be, as far as I'm concerned – and the rest of them there tonight ought to have a one-way ticket to join her."

Andromeda nodded, "Merlin, I hope it doesn't start again. No-Man's-Land is an awful place to live."

"Nowhere can be awful, Dromeda, not when we're there together."

She laughed, "You said that when we got that first flat."

"Well, it still applies."

"It had _damp_, Ted. And bars over the windows. And cockroaches. Cockroaches that weren't for potions ingredients."

"Yes, well, it was _ours_, wasn't it?"

...

Sirius crossed the door of the Burrow, coming to a halt in the now long-empty kitchen. They must have all been put somewhere to sleep. He'd say that for Molly Weasley, she could always find you a bed to sleep in. It was as if space bent around her will.

He sat down at the table, lifting up the teapot, pleased to see there was something in there. He poured himself a mug and heated it back up again. There wasn't any milk left, but black tea it was better than nothing.

A shuffling noise made him look up.

"Are you ok?"

Sirius blinked, "Harry? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

For a moment, one terrifying, heart-stopping moment, he thought he'd seen James too.

"I saw you walking round the garden. I just wanted to check that you're alright."

"I'm supposed to worry about you, you know. Not the other way round."

Harry shrugged.

"Do you want a cup of tea?"

He nodded and Sirius set him up with a mug, while Harry settled himself down opposite him.

"I heard you had some problems with Crouch. You got your wand back and everything, didn't you?"

He took a gulp, "Yeah. But I don't think that Elf cast the Mark."

Sirius nodded, "No, I don't think she did either. But Crouch never did show any mercy for those who stood in his way, or threatened his reputation."

Harry frowned, "What do you mean?"

"He sent his-" Sirius shook his head and put down his mug. "It doesn't matter, Harry. It's not a story for tonight of all nights anyway. Are you sure you're ok?"

Harry looked down at the table, "Did they cast that? The Mark, I mean, over my parents' house?"

Sirius was silent for a moment. "No... No they didn't Harry. Voldemort went on his own... and, well, there wasn't anyone to cast it after it all, after it all happened."

"I think that's a good thing."

"I think so too."

Again, there was silence.

"I'm glad Maia's ok."

Sirius smiled and nodded, "I am too. I'm glad you're all ok."

...

"Is Draco well?"

Narcissa nodded as she passed the doorway into their room, leaving it open as she hadn't since Draco was in short trousers, just in case he called.

"That is good."

Again she nodded.

"Please talk to me."

She sighed as she sat down onto the bed next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Begging doesn't suit you, Lucius."

"Perhaps it will suit me better in time. I begged Cassiopeia tonight."

"I know you did."

"I was a fool, Cissa. But I would do anything, absolutely anything, to protect you, you and Draco both. Please know that."

"I do, Lucius. I do know that. And I do love you... It's just..."

"The House of Black is the same as the House of Malfoy to me, my love. I mean that, this time I do."

She shook her head. "No you don't, Lucius. You'll never mean that. I love you in spite of your flaws, in spite of that fact that the Houses of Black and Malfoy mean very little to you. You've always had and have always followed your own agenda. You'll do whatever you want, follow whatever path you want, to achieve your aim."

"My only aim is the continued happiness and welfare of you and our son. And that aligns me to the House of Black."

"For now."

He didn't answer.

"But we both know that is not our most immediate concern, with regards to the Dark Lord."

"No it is not." He wrapped his arms around her, as she lay down against him, using his chest as a pillow. "I do not know why I was not invited."

"And what is worse, if I am correct in the hierarchy of who is left, is that it should have been you to organise such a thing. You were the highest left, were you not?"

"Not anymore, it would seem. The Death Eaters are dancing to a new tune."

"Or _his_." Her gaze rested on the darkening Mark as he nodded, bedding down to kiss her head, before he blew out the last bedside candle.

And the pair were engulfed by the black of the night.

...


	21. Paths Taken and Chosen

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**Trigger Warning: Grief References**

**Also, this chapter should answer a few Dursley/ward related questions which came up a few chapters ago.**

Chapter Twenty _~ Paths Taken And Chosen_

"Shay?"

Seamus Finnegan put the dog brush to one side and looked up, "Yeah?"

"I wanted to talk to you, before I head out." His father glanced at the clock on the wall, "Though I've still got time yet."

Seamus nodded, "Yeah, I think we all got up early this morning. Dean's gone home already – his Ma gets the _Prophet_ now and he wanted to be back before she saw the headline. Thought she might go spare."

"He's a good lad – you're lucky to have a friend like him."

"Yeah, I know."

Daniel Finnegan sat himself down in his armchair, letting his briefcase rest against it. He was silent, for a moment. "It was a good thing, what you did for that Black girl, you know."

"I could hardly have left her like that, Da."

"And I'm proud of you son, but your Ma told me about her family, and hell, even _I've _heard of that family."

Seamus went back to brushing the dog's fur, "Yeah, well after last year, I reckon everyone'll heard of the Blacks."

"Yeah, but you know that's not what I mean."

"She's not all that bad, Da."

Daniel Finnegan shook his head, "I'm just warning you, not to get mixed up in something that's over your head. You know what happens to people who get mixed up in things they should have left well alone."

"I know, Da. I won't."

"Just keep your head down, son. That's all I'm saying. The likes on her will just bring a hell of a lot of trouble down on it otherwise."

Seamus let out a long breath of air, "I know, Da. I'm not going to get mixed up in all that – especially not if they're all kicking off again."

Daniel smiled at his son, tousled his hair, and picked up the over-stuffed briefcase. "You're a good lad too." He said, before heading out the door, which closed softly behind him.

...

She did not turn around when addressed.

"I have been waiting for you."

"I was delayed."

"How so?"

There was a pause, and she could hear the grating sound on the tip of the cane being twisted against the floorboard.

"Narcissa was distressed."

He did not have to see her face, in order to know she was smirking.

"Oh? Did she throw something at you? You must be acquainted with the Black temper by now."

"I have come to discuss what transpired last night, not my marriage."

"So you are still married?"

"I have my wife's love."

"Love makes everyone a fool."

"Then you, too, are a fool, Cassiopeia."

She swept around, her long hem flaring slightly, and she crossed the floor. She sat down in front of the fire, gesturing for Lucius to talk the opposing chair. "Or would you prefer to stand?"

He sat down.

"I meant what I said last night. I was a fool, and you have my loyalty."

"Yes, we have your loyalty, for now. But let us not pretend that that counts for a great deal. To how many people, with opposing schemes, have you sworn unending loyalty?"

He did not answer.

"Yes. That's the crux of the matter, is it not?"

"But you will protect Narcissa and Draco, will you not? Should the time come, should I ever prove unable, you will protect them? From myself, if needs be?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Lucius, why do you suppose you are a free man now? I never saved you for your own sake. I did it for theirs. I did it because Narcissa loved you."

...

Dumbledore made a prism with his hands and leant back his chair, "I agree, last night is most disturbing."

"It is worse than you fear, Dumbledore. The old crowd was not merely playing. Their Marks are darkening once more. We must prepare for his return."

"So Wormtail has most assuredly returned to his former master?"

"Most assuredly, but the politics of that set are changing."

"How so?"

"Because Lucius was not even invited, not even told." Dumbledore nodded, as Cassiopeia watched him closely. "What do you propose we do, old man?"

He sighed, "Guard Harry, closer than ever before."

"He will be safe at Hogwarts, and he is safe with us."

"I have an old friend, who I shall persuade to join the staff for this coming year. We owe each other many favours, and he would protect Harry with his own life."

"And this friend is?"

"Alastor Moody."

She smirked, "The only competent Auror – besides my own niece, of course – ever known to wizardkind. Most appropriate."

"You are too harsh, Madam Black."

"And you, sir, are too lenient. But you must have other plans."

"Harry must continue to study Occlumacy. If Tom does return, is growing stronger, his mind must be protected."

"His mind _and_ his soul."

Dumbledore inclined his head, "Has any progress been made with the Horcruxes?"

"I have turned to Arithmacy, and I believe you will agree that if the Dark Lord made more than one, then he chose a powerful magical number."

"I will agree with that."

"And so, I believe that he would have chosen one of the most powerful magical numbers. Three, for the realms of the land, sea and sky, and our physical, mental and spiritual magic. Or five, for the five elements. Six, the sun number, for the magical strength of the sun. Or... or nine, for it is thrice the number three, and the strongest of them all."

Dumbledore's prism-making hands quivered, "Forgive an old man, but surely... surely not even Tom."

Cassiopeia looked away, towards the silent depths of the mirror into which Cygnus had retreated and from which he refused to return, "I fear that there is nothing the Dark Lord would not do."

"Indeed, he is Iago a thousand-fold."

"Don't do him the honour. He is no Iago. We all see him for what he is. He fools none of us with honeyed lies, with an act of honesty and goodness."

Dumbledore smiled the palest ghost of a smile. "I did not expect you to catch the reference."

She raised an eyebrow, "Did you think that I did not monitor my niece's account? When I saw in her _Blotts_ account that she had begun purchasing a vast number of muggle-authored texts, I took it upon myself to monitor them."

"Oh?"

"Is that all you have to say? No high and mighty moral outrage?"

"No. And do you plan to confront the young Miss. Black with this?"

"Not as yet. I see no need to intervene at the present time."

Dumbledore sighed and bowed his head once again. The moment of light talk had passed already, brief as it had been. When he spoke again, his voice was breaking. "There is one other – or at least, one other I fear that has been made..."

Her eyebrows rose, "I am correct? It is not a scar?"

"I read your letter, and I agree. The link between the minds, nay, the souls... The sharing of Parseltongue... It is a wound. I believe it is a wound of the soul, with a physical manifestation."

"You believe..."

He bowed his head, "I believe Mr. Potter may be a Horcrux."

...

"Cousin Harry?"

The two young people sat at the edge of the lake. Harry attempted to skim rocks, whilst Maia sat and watched him, and open book resting on her lap. Both were dressed in the traditional manner, although Harry had cast aside his outer robe and stood instead in his shirt, trousers and boots. Maia's attire was impeccable.

Harry tossed a stone aside, "Yes?"

"Are you well?"

He frowned, "Do I look sick?"

She closed the book, "No, I mean, are you happy? You don't seem happy."

He pushed his way through the long grass and sat down next to her. "I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow, "I remain unconvinced."

"Well, I might as well ask _you_ how you are."

"You could try."

He shook his head, "I really am fine, I'm just sick of Voldemort messing everything up. I mean, my parents, Sirius, my scar and now Quidditch."

Predictably, Maia flinched.

"Why do you do that? Why do you flinch?"

"His name should not be spoken."

"Why not?"

"Why should it?" Her voice rose slightly, "He inflicted so much... so much damage, so much pain. Speaking his name, is, well, painful. It is better unspoken."

"Dumbledore calls him by his name."

"Well bully for Dumbledore."

Harry sighed and looked towards the lake, "I still think you should call a spade a spade. I know what he did, but I never knew it was wrong to speak his name, and calling him anything but his name, for me, well, it's like giving him a level of respect he doesn't deserve."

Maia tilted her head, "I suppose, but would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? Or a festering toad as repugnant? Vol-volde-demort, You-Know-Who, the Dark Lord... It doesn't change anything he did."

"But it does change how we look at him."

"I never had you down as a philosopher, Cousin Harry."

He laughed, "I think it's the Occlumacy. It makes me clear my mind, but it makes me think and order and analyse my thoughts more."

"That's no bad thing."

He nodded, "So will you call him Voldemort?"

"I think I shall try. Although I have been calling him the Dark Lord since I was in pinafores and aprons, and old habits are hard to break."

Quite suddenly, Harry doubled over with laughter, gasping for breath.

"What on earth is the matter with you now?"

"It's just... The fearsome, evil Maia Black of Slytherin... in a... in a pinafore!"

She picked up her book and hit him with it, "Oh how very mature of you, Potter." She snapped.

He sat up and took a few deep breaths before shrugging, "It's true though. Which of you was more evil – you or Malfoy – used to have Ron, Seamus, Dean and me up half the night in first year."

"Well then, I regret to inform you that neither Draco nor I were the particular masterminds of the Dragon Incident."

"Who was?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that at the present time."

"Please?"

She smirked, "You should never underestimate the background cast, Cousin Harry. And that is all I shall say on the matter."

"Damn Slytherins."

Her smirk widened, and Harry scowled. He reached across and pulled the book she had previously been reading towards him.

_The History Of The Stones_.

"What's this?"

Looking a little surprised, Maia answered, "It's a history of using stones, in different forms, as a means of Divination."

"Like a crystal ball?"

"Like a crystal ball, although not just that."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, "Have you ever made a prophecy, Maia?"

"No. Not like the one Professor Trelawny made at the end of term."

"How did you know about that?"

"Aunt Cassiopeia told me."

"How-"

She rolled her eyes and cut him off, "Dumbledore told her. They_ are_ allies."

"So you haven't made a prophecy."

"Do you need your ears cleaning?"

"I was just wondering..."

"Oh sweet Salazar, don't tell me you were _thinking_. A Gryffindor, _thinking._ The abyss must truly be nigh!"

"Well, it's not that ridiculous to think that if she's made a prophecy then you have. You do carry more weight as a Seer."

"Yes, because I don't walk around telling everyone they're going to die horrible, horrible deaths, do I? And no one Seer is ever the same as another, anyway." She paused, "You ought not to think too much on the future Harry, and certainly not on Trewlawny. The future is something which one can never truly know, and it is never written in stone. Well, some things are, but they are rare. Usually a Seer only sees something when it becomes definite, when the path towards it has already been set in motion, but even then, things change more often than not. A Seer who is that way inclined might make a Prophecy, but consider this: if you and no one else had ever heard Trewlawny's Prophecy, would it carry more or less weight than it does now? It's all subjective. You make the future, we make our own future's. Not Trewlawny. Not one Seer gazing into a ball. The Sight if often useless, when one thinks about it. I'm a useless Seer, am I not? I get _feelings_ which are more often than not either completely lacking when needed most – like at the World Cup – woefully misinterpreted – like the dream about rats – or they end me up in the Hospital Wing for the vast majority of the academic year."

Harry looked away, "Sorry."

"It's quite alright."

Harry chewed his bottom lip, "I don't think your Sight is useless. You can't blame yourself for what happened yesterday. Even if you had Seen something, who would have listened?"

Maia let out a bitter laugh, "I imagine that if a _Black_ announces an impending Death Eater attack, it's generally taken rather seriously."

Harry shook his head and said nothing for a moment. "Why don't you tell me my fortune?"

"I'm not a muggle peddlar spinning tales, Potter."

"Please."

"No. You have a link to the Dark Lord's mind. I'm _not_ influencing _that_ kettle of fish."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."

"Weren't you meant to be calling him Voldemort from now on?"

Harry flinched as she lifted the book threateningly again, before turning on her heel and flouncing back towards the house.

...

"You believe him to be a Horcrux?"

The old man sighed, "I have no proof... But if he dabbled in this magic... Horcruxes explain why the spirit of Tom Riddle remains, but his body does not. Or did not, as you say he has taken on a new physical manifestation. A part of his soul in young Harry would explain the connection they seem to share, a connection which seems to be both physical and mental already. Tom cannot touch Harry. Their minds are linked. Yet they share a skill often carried in families. A link of the soul seems, sadly, more than plausible."

"Is there any chance they could merge? The two souls, if he is indeed a vessel? Why would the Dark Lord do such a thing?"

"Perhaps it was unintentional? Nevertheless, I believe his mother's protection, which shields him physically, also shields his soul. That is why the wards must not be broken."

"That is a logical conclusion, though we do speak only hypothetically. But do you intend to tell him all of this? At least that this is what you fear to be the case?"

Dumbledore turned his head away, "You know the only way to destroy a Horcrux is to destroy the vessel which anchors it to this earth, Madam Black."

"But still! The boy must know. The boy ought to know."

"Tell me, Madam Black, could you tell your niece such a thing? Could you tell Miss. Black that she has to die, that we would have to destroy her very body through Fiendfyre, or similar or worse, in order to ever be rid of Voldemort."

Cassiopeia paled slightly. "I have never considered the implications of removing a Horcrux from a human vessel. It would have to be utterly destroyed, would it not?"

Dumbledore picked up the ruined diary and tossed it on the desk, "I do believe it would. Now tell me, could you tell Maia such a thing?"

She shook her head, "No, I could not."

...

Caroline and Sirius sat in the sun room, watching as Maia stormed back towards the house and Harry trailed after her, evidently calling out for her to slow down.

"They do look rather alike, from a distance. With their dark hair and pale colouring."

Sirius smiled, "Yes, they do. Don't they?"

"And it is good, to see them getting along, and acting as young people. Though I doubt Harry will ever be as much a brother to her as Draco. Though they are all still young, and things may change..."

Sirius turned to her, "What do you mean?"

She shrugged, delicately, "I mean nothing in particular." She smiled and changed the subject, "I wonder what they quarrelled over? It can't be anything serious – neither has their wand drawn."

Sirius, frowning slightly, leant back in his chair. "What do teenagers argue about? I think I'm getting old, now that I can't remember these things anymore."

"I assure you, you are quite the spring chicken compared to me."

Sirius laughed easily, "I suppose. And I'll admit, I am happy to see them getting along, and bickering like friends should. It's healthy. That trip to Gringotts did them the world of good."

"I think it did you all good. I'll admit, I was worried for you, that day when you returned. But since then... since then you have seemed increasingly... settled."

He nodded, "I found a letter from James, when we went to the Potter family vault."

"Oh?"

"It helped me... It helped me to settle."

"That's good then. Will you show it to Harry?"

Sirius caught himself before answering, "Yes. But not yet. I will, of course, and soon, I hope. But not yet. I don't think _I'm_ ready, and it's the sort of conversation that has to be done right."

"I agree, but don't wait too long for the right moment. Time catches up with you."

"Or escaped convicts?"

Caroline laughed lightly, "Yes, you did ruin my plan for that particular conversation."

After a few quiet moments, Caroline spoke again. "What were the Potter vaults like? I know that my late sister-in-law married into the family, but I have never really considered the matter, truth be told... And it must have been good, for Cousin Harry, to see his family history."

Sirius sighed, "I can't tell you about Dorea – nothing of hers was there. Very little was there, in fact. James lost it all – no, gave it all away – to fund the last war."

Caroline started, "The House of Potter is impoverished? But Harry... He never said! Is he quite alright? How could you not-"

Sirius laid a calming hand over hers, "Harry does not care. You've seen how he is. He does not care about this life – this lifestyle – as you three do. And there is still some gold left. Don't worry, Caroline. He is fine."

She shook her head, "But it is just so terrible to lose that sort of thing, a whole history, a whole legacy. To see it fall and crumble to dust before one's very eyes..."

Her voice trailed away as she looked out over the gardens, watching as the two young people disappeared out of sight into one of the side entrances of the house. Sirius' frown deepened, but he made no comment, and turned himself away.

It was not his place to ask, yet.

...

Cassiopeia was silent for a long moment, before looking up again and meeting Dumbledore's regret-filled gaze, "Surely... Surely there must be another way?"

...


	22. All Seasons Turn

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Twenty One_ ~ All Seasons Turn_

"Now, Cousin Harry, I am aware that we have only had a short while to work on you-"

Harry followed behind Cassiopeia Black, pulling his truck, trying to hold his robes in place, while still feeling woozy from the apparition, and grimaced as she continued her lecture with her nose in the air, her words floating behind her. Maia pranced along next to him, smirking like a cat with the cream.

"-but I do believe that we have taught you the most basic aspects of manners, comportment and etiquette. We have certainly given you the lessons, and I shall be most displeased if it comes to my attention that you are not taking them to heart."

She paused for a moment to fix him with a glare which would have put the fear of all the Gods and all the Devils into the heart of any man.

"Yes, Aunt Cassiopeia."

"Good." Then she continued, "You are both aware that this is a particularly important year, for Hogwarts but for all those dwelling within it who value their reputations, and so you must at all times be a credit to your House and your families. And, I would like to remind you Cousin Harry, that as we have taken you in as something akin to a ward, your behaviour reflects upon the House of Black as seriously as it does the House of Potter."

She turned again to fix him with another glare. "I take the reputation of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black _most seriously_, Potter."

This time, all he could do was nod.

They came to a halt in front of the train. "Now, you are both excused."

Harry stood still for a moment, wondering if this was actually how he was supposed to say goodbye to his newly-formed, sort-of family. He was pleased when he saw Maia turn and hug her mother tightly.

He turned to Sirius and hugged him, before being pulled away and hugged tightly by Aunt Caroline.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Maia and Sirius stared at each other awkwardly. _Just hug the poor man_, he thought to himself, although he knew it was not so simple. Maia had already curtseyed to her aunt, and Harry knew from the many lessons he had been forced to endure over the summer, that interactions were all heavily coded and important to families like the Blacks. He knew that both Maia and Sirius were most likely suffering a major moral quandary.

At last, Maia sunk into a deep curtsey, as she had done to her aunt. "I shall endeavour to serve you and our House, whilst we are parted, and look forward to the time when we are returned to each other."

Sirius smiled easily, showing no pain, and bowed in return, "I trust that I can count upon your correspondence."

"You can remain assured that I shall be a diligent correspondent."

And then they were bundled on the train, and searching for a compartment.

Harry sighed, "I think you could have hugged him goodbye, you know."

Maia was silent for a moment, "I know. But I still do not look at him and see a father. I look at him and see an uncle, perhaps, of whom I am growing increasingly fond."

"Etiquette dictates that one can hug an uncle, or anyone with whom you have an intimate acquaintance." Said Harry, putting on a pompous voice.

"Aunt Cassiopeia is not so lax."

Harry shook his head, "You should do what you feel is right."

"I'm trying."

"I know."

They were silent for a moment, "How many times has Aunt Cassiopeia hugged you, out of interest?"

"In my lifetime?"

"Yes?"

Maia frowned for a moment, as she counted through her head and smiled wryly, "More that you would imagine, and more than she would ever admit."

Harry laughed, "If you say so."

"Anyway, are you ready? You remember what I told you to say? You are prepared?"

He sighed, "I've agreed to go along with this, but..."

"But nothing, Cousin Harry. You gave your word, and a wizard must honour his word."

...

Maia sat down in the compartment opposite Harry, half speechless at how odd this moment felt. She had stored her trunk it what was undoubtedly about to become a Gryffindor compartment. At any moment, a horde of red-heads might descend upon them. She actually felt rather nervous, truth be told, although it was a truth to which she would never own.

"You can go and find Malfoy already, if you want. You don't have to sit here at all. You could just go now and come back later, perhaps."

She was very still for a moment, composed and careful. She didn't want to give anything away.

"We can take my trunk."

Harry nodded without comment, and pulled it down from the rack. "I'll take it for you."

Maia smiled, "You _did_ listen to the lessons, didn't you?"

At that moment, Hermione Granger pushed the door open and all but fell into the compartment. "I don't think my trunk has ever been so heavy!" she gasped, setting it down next to her. "How are you both? Are you riding with us, Maia?"

Maia shook her head, "No, I just came to see Cousin Harry settled. I'm going to find Cousin Draco now."

Hermione nodded, "Well, do come back and say hello. I wanted to compare notes with you on the new school book - Runes looks like it will be so much fun this year, and next year will be OWLs, so we really have to start knuckling down if we want to do well!"

Maia inclined her head.

...

Maia led the way down the corridor briskly, glancing neither left nor right and thus forcing the other students to duck and dive out of her path, just as Aunt Cassiopeia had done before on the platform. Harry followed behind, pulling her truck, as she lectured him without turning her face towards him. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. She was, at times, very often in fact, her aunt in miniature.

"You remember how I told you to do everything?"

"Yes, Cousin Maia."

"And you will do everything _exactly _how I told you to do it?"

"Yes, Cousin Maia."

"And you understand the very delicate nature of this social interaction?"

"Yes, Cousin Maia."

"And you understand that it will be very difficult to carry off?"

"Yes, Cousin Maia."

"And you understand that it is _absolutely imperative _that you neither embarrass me, nor my House, nor cause me to lose face?"

"_Yes, Cousin Maia!" _he said with a huff of air, for what felt like the thousandth time.

And then, with a sharp rap of her knuckles, Maia knocked on the door of the Slytherin compartment and Goyle jumped to open the door for her.

Utter silence descended over the group, comprising then of Goyle, Parkinson, Blaise, Tracey and Draco. Tracey dropped her copy of _Witch Weekly. _

Draco stood.

Maia took a further step into the room, and gestured to Harry to put her trunk to one side. He stepped back to the edge of the room, holding his hands behind his back and dipping his head. Maia curtseyed deeply, going so far as to incline her head towards the floor as she did so. "Cousin Draco, while you have been introduced, I should like to formally present to you my House's new ward."

Two bright spots appeared on Draco's pale cheeks, as he bowed in her direction. When he had straightened himself, he replied stiffly. "I am already aware of the wizard in question, Cousin Maia, and will not renew an address previously rejected."

The Slytherins all sat very still. Blaise looked at each of the three participants in turn. Tracey's eyes were bright, and she was a moment away from licking her lips. Pansy Parkinson looked as though she might cackle at any moment.

Maia maintained her curtsey. "The wizard in question was not, at the time, aware of the proper etiquette and not aware of the nature of presentations and introductions. Now that he is aware of our customs, the wizard in question is most grievously concerned that any slight could have been given. As the Head of a Noble and Most Ancient House, he feels that it is only right and proper that any offence be addressed, and that a renewed presentation be attempted."

"And does this desire from a new attempt rise from a wish to align himself advantageously?"

"It rises purely from the desire to set right any wrongs and any misunderstandings between two of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses. The wizard in question is a Gryffindor, of pure and noble heart."

Draco was silent for a long moment. Years later, Tracey Davies would swear that one could hear the heartbeat of every witch and wizard in the room, so silent were they all.

"Then as a Slytherin, with the deepest respect for our traditions of civility and proper pride, I will accept the renewed presentation of the wizard in question."

Draco stepped forwards and held out a hand to Maia, who placed hers in his as she finally stood again. She smiled at him as their eyes met.

"Master Draco Lucius Malfoy, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, I have the honour of formally presenting to you Mr. Harry James Potter, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter."

Harry and stepped forwards and bowed to Draco, who bowed in response and stepped forwards with his hamd outstretched.

"I am pleased to be introduced to you, Mr. Potter."

Harry reached out and clasped Draco's hand in his own. "I am pleased that we may have a civil address, Master Malfoy."

...

Late that night, after they had effectively sent the others to bed so that they might have the chance to talk undisturbed, Maia and Draco sat facing each other on opposing arm chairs in front of the fire.

"I think the welcoming feast went off very well, brother."

"Yes, I agree. I particularly enjoyed the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament."

"Yes, I particularly enjoyed that fact that Parkinson and Bulstrode were the only two of our group who did not know." Said Maia, her upper lip curled with dislike.

"I had hoped, sister, that they might have been more of a friend to you by now."

Maia took a slow, steadying breath. "I accept that Pansy Parkinson was a friend to you when you needed one, and I accept that they are a part of our group and I accept that it was I who originally suggested their inclusion. But I cannot, and never shall, view them with anything but distaste."

Draco inclined his head, "I understand."

"Thank you." She glanced around the room. "Alastor Moody may prove an interesting teacher."

"He will do everything in his power to humiliate those of our heritage, as well you know."

"Yes, I know, but I thought that Dumbledore chose well, in making Queenie Greengrass Head Girl."

"And what do you think of the choice of Head Boy?" said Maia, smiling.

"I think he chose poorly in that quarter."

"A Ravenclaw is not so bad."

"Not as bad as a Gryffindor, _that much_ I will concede."

Maia wrapped her blanket tighter around herself. "Thank you for accepting Cousin Harry's renewed presentation today."

"We had already discussed it at length, and I had already given you my word that I would do so."

"Yes, but I still had my reservations..."

"Maia, I shall always keep my word when I give it to you."

Maia grinned, "Likewise, brother. Likewise."

They were silent for a moment. "You know, he was quite _discomfited _when he realised that he caused genuine offence in first year. He had never been taught as we were."

Draco sighed, "I know that know. I realised soon after. But..."

"I know, he offended you publicly."

Draco nodded. "And I had sought to make an effort, you know, given that I already knew he had been raised by muggles. I only offered a hand. I did nothing more. I did not throw the _entire _etiquette book at him."

Maia laughed softly, "Aunt Cassiopeia did, over the summer." She paused. "I have a rather strong disliking of the Dursleys, I must admit."

Draco made a prism with his hands as he watched the fire. "You said they took his wand?"

Maia nodded.

"That is disgusting."

"I know."

Draco was silent for a moment, "Is all of this leading up to you asking me to call off my feud with Mr. Potter."

"You are on civil terms. If you wish, you could simply drop the feud. You have been re-introduced. That is a new start. You could set the feud down in the past now, as though it never happened. Indeed, your acquaintance has, technically, begun anew."

Draco sighed, "Well, I shall not make the first move, sister. I shall give you that much."

"It's all I'd ever ask." She said, stepping over to hug him goodnight, before making her own way up to bed.

...


	23. Questions Asked

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**Trigger Warning: Moody's first DADA lesson, which I've always found to be rather disturbing. **

**Chapter Twenty Two** ~_ Questions Asked_

Sirius sat by the fire, a full and untouched tumbler of whiskey in one hand, while the other pushed his hair out of his face.

"Are you quite alright, Sirius?" said Caroline from the doorway behind him.

He frowned, "It's... it's oddly quiet without them."

"They'll be back at Christmas, at Yule."

He nodded.

"You'll get used to it in a few days."

He shook his head and stood up, walking over to stoke the fire. "Are you lying, by any chance?"

She smiled, "Perhaps."

...

Narcissa arranged the covers around her as she turned to her husband, "Have you spoken any further with Cassiopeia?"

He rolled over to face her, "No. Not since the day after the match."

"Did she accept your loyalty?"

"I am not sure."

Narcissa nodded and made no comment.

Lucius frowned, "You will not base your own judgement solely upon hers?"

"Her judgement is generally sound."

"I thought that you had perhaps already made your decision?"

"I am still here, Lucius."

"Yes, but only because you have not decided if you should leave."

"I shan't leave, Lucius. I couldn't. You know that. You know that I still love you." She sighed, before rolling over and turning away from him.

"Narcissa..."

"I'm tired. All of this has made me very tired."

And then they were silent.

...

Tracey and Daphe were waiting up for Maia when she finally entered the dorm room. Tracey's cheeks were flushed as she jumped out of bed to pull Maia into the room. "Maia, tell her! You must tell her! Everything!"

"About what?"

"About you. And Potter. And Draco." Said Tracey, pushing her onto the bed opposite Daphne. Askella jumped off the bed and mewled, expressing her insult at the intrusion, and stalked off to sleep in the far corner.

Maia shook her head, "You must know full well that Draco and I orchestrated the entire thing in advance."

"Oh hush and don't ruin it for me."

Tracey, Maia and Daphne each looked from one to each other before bursting out laughing. They laughed so hard they ended up lying on their sides next to each other and crying and gasping for breath.

Finally, Tracey caught her herself and sat up again, fighting to keep a straight face. She raised her arm in an invisible toast, "To the future Slytherin Princesses. But one year to go and we shall begin our reign."

And, suddenly, they broke into hysterics again. It was as if they knew, deep within them, that the world was going mad around them and all they could do was laugh, because they had no control, and otherwise they might just cry.

Because, like every witch, wizard, squib and muggle who read the _Prophet_ and who had seen the World Cup knew, the magical world was slipping deeper and deeper back into a darkness which had haunted their sleep for well over a decade.

Because they knew the Dark Lord was returning.

Because they knew that their plans, in a darkening world, would likely come to naught.

And so they laughed.

And wept on the inside.

...

After breakfast that morning, the Slytherins made their way towards the dungeons and double potions. For the first time in four years, there was no confrontation between Draco and Harry. All that transpired, that was of any note to the keen observer, was that when Seamus Finnegan stepped forwards to greet Maia Black she cut him so quickly that the attempt itself went un-noticed.

...

The rest of the first week passed almost without comment. Maia studied with Hermione in the library each evening, and they were joined once or twice by Ginny Weasley who didn't make too much of a nuisance of herself. Arithmacy was as difficult as ever, though Justin was continuing to act as her tutor. Transfiguration was a topic which didn't bear mentioning. However, Ancient Runes was, as Hermione had suggested, very exciting while Muggle Studies proved ever more fun as they started to go into more depth regarding the intricacies of the Muggle world and Muggle life.

Of course, the subject which caused the most excited was Defence Against The Dark Arts.

And, on Friday, the Slytherins trudged towards that class together in a show of unity. They had already heard from the Nott boys and the Carrow twins what to expect. Marcus Flint had been quite violent in his Common Room denunciation of Moody. Little Astoria Greengrass had been reduced to tears after that, begging her sisters not to make her go to class, even though their House had never even been tainted.

Queenie had told her, most sternly, that she had not be Sorted into Slytherin only to shame them thusly within the week. The poor first year had quieted herself after that, and Daniel Stretton had kindly passed her a handkerchief.

Though, as the classroom came into view, Maia was inclined to think that Astoria had the measure of things far better than they did.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors stood on opposing sides of the corridor.

Hermione gave Maia a weak, faltering sort of smile.

Maia pursed her lips, tried her very best not to look pained by the fiasco that she felt sure was about to be unleashed, and turned away.

The door to the classroom swung open of its own accord, and the teenagers filed through and took their places.

"Books away and wands out." Barked a gruff voice from the far corner of the room.

Maia heard him, heard the steady thump and slow drag of an old leg with an old wound, before she saw him. Mad Eye Moody stepped out of the shadows, his own wand already in hand, as he made his torturously slow progress down the room.

Maia felt Draco tense next to her, as the professor passed him by.

She could even feel Vincent and Gregory – stupid as they were – sitting rigid behind them. Even they, they who were the most blind, could see and sense and feel what was going on around them.

Maia would have – she was sure – done almost anything short of cold-blooded murder in that moment to trade places with Hermione or Tracey or any other student who didn't have to sit there and feel the disdain and judgement and hatred which seemed to radiate from the very being, the very core, of Made Eye Moody. And yes, she was well aware that that probably reflected rather poorly on her character.

"What are the Unforgiveable Curses?"

Predictably, Hermione's hand shot into the air with well-practiced precision. For the first time, Maia did not feel a sense of lingering competitiveness and pettiness to take attention from her.

Instead, she glanced across the room, to see that Hermione was looking unusually pale herself. Maia's gaze met with Seamus Finnegan's and she turned her eyes sharply back to the front of the class.

"Yes, Miss...?"

"Granger, sir." said Hermione promptly. "The Unforgiveable Curses are the three curses named by the Ministry as unforgiveable. The use of any of them carries a mandatory life sentence in Azkaban."

"And can you name them?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, and Maia turned round to see that her lips were opening and closing, but no sound was coming out. "Name... name them, sir?"

Moody's face screwed up as he leant over his desk to better watch his student. "Yes. Name them. Can you name them?"

Hermione sat up a little straighter, "I'd really rather not say them, sir."

Maia couldn't help but smirk at her little moral friend, and she saw Draco's lips twitch out of the corner of her eye. As long as Moody focussed on the Gryffindors, ignored all of them, it would be fine. And if Hermione wanted to inadvertently save the day by introducing Moody to established social niceties (i.e. not talking to a room of teenagers about the Unforgiveable Curses, particularly when, for example, the Houses of Longbottom, Potter, Malfoy and Black were all present) Maia was not going to complain.

Sadly, Moody changed tack. Turning to Ronald, he snapped, "You. Weasley. Can you name them?"

Weasley floundered for a moment, "I... Well... My dad, I remember my dad telling me about one. The... The Imperious Curse."

There was a moment of silence, and Maia saw Draco's grip on the edge of his desk tighten. His white knuckles were nearing the point of translucence.

Moody smirked. "Aye, your father would remember that one, wouldn't he? Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble a few years back." Moody turned towards her table. "And your father too, Malfoy. He'd know all about the Imperious Curse, wouldn't he?"

Maia's heart swelled as Draco sat up in his chair and arched his neck. "I'm afraid I couldn't possibly comment, sir." His voice was bland, as though he were bored of Moody's theatrics already. Maia decided it was a good tactic to take, and allowed herself to lean back in her chair slightly and smirk. Moody could bad-mouth Uncle Lucius until the sky fell in, and she would probably rather enjoy it, even though he was now bought to heel by Aunt Narcissa and supposedly on their side again.

But nobody insulted Draco without insulting her.

Moody scowled from Draco, to her and back again, and Maia raised her eyebrow, mirroring the look of contempt Cassiopeia had taught her.

Moody turned away and pulled a glass jar down from his shelf. He tipped a spider out onto his desk and engorged it.

"Imperio."

Immediately, the spider started to tap dance. Draco's face was bloodless. In the background, Brown and Patil could be heard giggling.

"Yes, funny isn't it?" said Moody, with his own chocking brand of laughter. A laughter that was in some ways manic, and in no way funny. "Just look at him go." With a wave of his wand the spider sailed through the air. "Look at him fly." With another flick, the spider flung itself towards the window. "One Imperius Curse, and you can throw yourself of a cliff." Another flick and the spider was clawing it its own skin. "One Imperius Curse, and you can tear yourself to pieces." With another flick of the wand, the spider can to stand completely still in front of Brown and Patil. "One Imperius Curse, and you can kill your whole family in cold blood."

Nobody was laughing now, expect for Moody.

"So, who can name me another?"

There was silence.

"Miss. Granger?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously, looking sick to her stomach.

Moody started to pace up and down the class again. "Well then. We've had the Imperious. Two more to go. You can't all sit there like butter wouldn't melt. I know you can name them."

Moody came to a sudden halt, his smile twisted. "Longbottom. Name me one."

The entire Slytherin faction of the class held its breath.

_He couldn't..._

_He wouldn't..._

"The... The Cruciatus Curse, sir." Longbottom said it as though the words hurt him, as though they were acid on his tongue.

"Good lad. Now who can tell me what it does? Well, Malfoy. Can you tell me?" Moody made his way towards them, stopping in front of their desk. "Or you Black, can you tell me?"

Maia's heart sped up in her chest, she could hear it pounding against her ribcage. Her whole body felt cold though, she clasped her hands in front of her to hide their sudden tremor.

Moody looked her up and down. He was the one smirking now.

And his eyes locked on her wand.

And widened.

And she heard Draco's sharp into of breath next to her.

And half of her knew what was coming, before it even happened, although when it did, it was still hard to hear, over the blood rushing through her ears, and her thudding, thudding, thudding heart.

"_Miss. Black, where did you get that wand?"_

...

**A/N – Dear all, I feel that as the recent speed of updates as been raised, I owe you an explanation. I'm currently torn between placing 'The Brightest Star' on temporary hiatus for a few months, until real life becomes slightly less hectic, or simply continuing as I am, where I update when I am able. At the moment, I am working, volunteering and writing up my postgraduate thesis (not to mention the fact that I still have personal and social lives which I would also like to maintain!) :) **

**The slowness is not a sign that I'm losing interest in the story, but simply a reflection of a rather busy schedule of late! **

**However, I can't seem to bring myself to give up something that I love, even if it would only be for a few months. So, please bear with me and I hope you enjoy what appears here when it appears! **

**Best wishes,**

**Roses and Lavender. **


	24. Questions Answered

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**Trigger Warning: Moody's DADA lesson continues**

Chapter Twenty Three _~ Questions Answered_

"_Miss. Black, where did you get that wand?"_

Maia stared back up at Moody, completely unmoving, completely silent.

"I asked you a question, did I not, Miss. Black?"

Draco glared back up at the professor, "It appears she declines to answer, sir."

He threw the 'sir' at him like an insult.

Moody's lips curled, "The world does not revolve around you, _Master_. Malfoy, regardless of what your father might say. I do not care for your answers, I'm waiting for Miss. Black's."

During the attempt to control her shaking hands and racing heart, Maia could have almost forgotten the question, if it hadn't seemed to hang in the air like a curse itself. _Where did you get that wand? _

_What did you get that wand? _

_Where did you get that wand?_

It seemed to reverberate of its' own accord. And a hiss rang through the classroom as the whispering started.

"SILENCE!" roared Moody, turning round to yell at the Gryffindors.

"It was a gift from my Aunt."

"Pardon?"

"It was a gift from my Aunt, sir."

Her voice was stronger the second time, and she decided to cling to that.

"Your darling, raving, mad Aunt Bellatrix?"

The hiss rang through the class once more, and this time Moody made no move to silence them.

"No sir, my Aunt Narcissa."

Moody's lips curled further, turning into a half-feral snarl. "Well, it's most certainly your Aunt Bellatrix's wand."

This time, the hiss was accompanied by gasps and a small, high-pitched shriek from one of the girls. There was a crash as something was knocked to the floor.

"Don't give me that look, girl. You're surprised? You think I wouldn't recognise that wand? You think I wouldn't recognise that wand when I saw it? I'd never forget that wand. Not in a hundred, thousand years would I forget that wand. I'd never forget that wand after all the things I saw it do. And yet you hold it? You dare to wield it? Tell me, does it work for you? Does it serve you well?"

She took a steadying breath, "It has served me very well thus far, sir."

"Well, perhaps you might like to come up here and demonstrate our next curse, Miss. Black? That wand was most certainly adept in its performance. So, Miss. Black, do you care to demonstrate? Do you care to show us the Cruciatus Curse?"

While her heart was thudding, faster than she ever thought possible, she took another breath and squared her shoulders. She was the daughter of a Noble and Ancient House. She was a Black. She did not show fear. She did not bow down in the face of intimidation. She did not endure an insult.

"No thank you, sir."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said no thank you sir."

"Do you know of the Cruciatus Curse, Miss. Black?"

"Yes, sir."

"And do you know what it does, Miss. Black?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what does it do?"

"It is the torture curse, sir."

"But what does it do, Miss. Black. What does it actually do?"

Maia forced herself to stare straight ahead. She could not bear to turn to one side or another. She did not want to see Blaise or Daphne or Tracey in this moment. She did not want to see Parkinson. She did not want to see Hermione or Harry. She did not even want to see Draco. And least of all did she want to see Longbottom. She did not want to have to see his face.

"It causes one immense physical pain, sir. It is said to feel as if one is being torn apart and burnt alive. It is said to feel as if one is being pierced by a hundred swords. It is said to feel as though it will never end. It is said to be unendurable, sir."

"And then what does it do, Miss. Black. And then what?"

"It is said..." she gasped, caught on her own words. It was one thing to read these words, so many times, in those old tomes in an old library, which now felt like a world away, and quite another thing to say them. It was one thing to say she was angry enough to kill, to torture. It was quite another to describe such a thing in a room full of children whose lives had been torn apart by those who had done just that, who had cast the Unforgiveables, who had tortured and killed. "It is said that there are some who are never able to recover from its effects."

"And do you know what the Cruciatus Curse looks like, Miss. Black? Have you seen it?"

Wordlessly, she shook her head, knowing what was coming next, knowing the words he was about to speak before he opened his mouth and turned his wand and...

"Crucio."

She closed her eyes, not able to look, and clasped her hands tightly together under the table. Draco's cold hand wrapped itself around her wrist, and she tried to breathe easy again.

"And do you know of your Aunt, Miss. Black?"

Her eyes stayed closed.

"I am well aware of Bellatrix Lestrange, sir."

"And are you proud to carry her wand?"

She opened her eyes and glared right back at him. Her voice found its steadiness and coldness once more when she answered him. "It isn't her's, it's _mine_."

Moody smirked and turned away, "And who can tell me the last curse. Potter?"

Harry didn't miss a beat. "The Avada Kedavra Curse, sir. The Killing Curse."

"Avada Kedavara."

And the spider was dead.

And the school bell rang.

...

As soon as she was free of the door of the class, Maia bolted down the corridors, not caring that she was a young witch who was not supposed to run. She shoved her way through the queue for the toilets and slammed the cubicle door shut behind her. She then hugged her knees to her chest and cried.

...

A sharp rapping at the door made her look up, and Maia reluctantly staggered to her feet. Pushing it open, she saw Tracey, Daphne and Hermione all looking rather uncomfortable in each other's company.

"Are you alright?" said Hermione.

Maia nodded. Hermione looked pale herself, and like she too wanted to be sick. "What happened with Longbottom?"

Daphne stepped forwards slightly, "Moody caught up with him before he left the classroom. Took him off for chocolate or something like that."

Maia nodded again. "And is Cousin Harry alright?"

Hermione sucked in her lips, "He's outside, with Ron."

"Perhaps we should all go to lunch now?"

"The bell's about to ring, I don't think we've got time."

...

The Gryffindors and Slytherins were all oddly quiet during the following Herbology lesson, at which Neville Longbottom was not present. The class seemed to drift over all of their heads, and Professor Sprout chastised them for their inattention. To Maia, it was as though she were only half there.

The Gryffindors, aside from Hermione, Harry and, surprisingly, Ronald, all gave her and the Slytherins a wide berth.

But especially her.

...

Maia quickly excused herself from the Golden Trio after Herbology. She just... she just couldn't bear their innocence. She couldn't bear that they were untainted in the same way that the rest of her friends, or most of her friends, were tainted. They had no relatives in Azkaban. Their families had never served the Dark Lord... Vol... Voldemort.

They didn't use their murdering Aunt's wands.

But it wasn't Bellatrix's wand. It was her's.

All her's.

Entirely her's.

...

Blaise was quiet during Arithmacy. He did not try to talk, and she was thankful for his silence. There was something soothing about Blaise's quiet. He had this way about him of being still, and making others still around him. Some might say he was calculating. And they were probably right. But nobody could deny he was calm.

Maia wanted a little bit of calm.

...

"Maia!"

She turned and saw Seamus Finnegan approaching. Blaise raised an eyebrow, but Maia waved him on ahead. She turned to face Seamus, taking yet another deep and steadying breath as she did so.

She dipped into a small curtsey, "Seamus."

He made a small, awkward and forced bow, "Maia."

They stared at each other in silence.

"Did you want something?"

"I wanted to see if you were alright."

"As you can see, I'm perfectly well."

"I wasn't asking after your health."

Maia drew herself up, and remained silent.

"I wanted to see how you were, after DADA."

"Professor Moody educated us in the nature of the Dark Arts, and I feel suitably enlightened."

"Do you?"

"I do."

They were both silent for a moment.

"You don't look alright. Well, you didn't look alright at the time."

"Whether I'm alright or not is no concern of yours."

"Maia..."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really use her wand?"

"It's not her's. She lost her right to carry a wand. It's my wand now."

"But doesn't it... doesn't it bother you?"

"It's my wand."

"But the things it did..."

"And wand is only a piece of wood, Finnegan, when all is said and done. Those things were done by her."

"So we're back to surnames then?"

"If you persist in annoying me."

"You're too damn cold for you own good, Maia. And I'm not going back to surnames."

"Have it your way. My dinner's getting cold."

She turned on her heel and marched towards the Great Hall. She could hear Seamus call after her though.

"If you carry on like this, Maia, one day you're going to fall and break your ankle and there won't be a single soul who'll stop and help."

_Clearly, he'd forgotten there was Draco._

...


	25. Dieu et mon Droit

**I do now own Harry Potter**

**Trigger Warning: Language. I've always tried to avoid swearing in my stories, and it's quite easy to keep the Slytherins from swearing (they can be vile in other ways) but it seems that the Gryffindors are more direct... So, if you find swearing offensive, well, I'm sorry, there's not much of it! : ) **

**Chapter Twenty Four**_** ~ Dieu et mon droit**_

"Draco?"

Again, the others and been subject to a de-facto dismissal and Maia and Draco were left in their respective armchairs in their own spot of Common Room territory. Maia looked across at Draco, who was scowling and frowning into the dying embers of the fire.

He looked up and sighed, "Do you trust my father?"

Maia blinked. It was a question which seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Do you want an honest answer?"

"From you? Always."

"Then no. I do not trust your father."

Draco leant back in his chair. "Neither do I. I cannot believe he betrayed mother, betrayed all of you. I cannot believe he tried to steal your blood right, your birth right, in my name. I cannot believe he sought to use his service to the Dark Lord to intimidate Aunt Cassiopeia. I cannot believe he spoke against your mother, who I know, _I know_ is a muggle, but she is still a Black and still your mother and, by the Gods, she's one of the best people I think I shall ever know. And I would say the same for Uncle Marius."

Maia buried her head in her hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's hardly your fault."

"I know." She sighed. "But he is loyal for now. We can trust him for now."

"We don't know how long this 'for now' will last, Maia. We both know that the-"

"We must not speak of it. Not here. You _know _that."

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, nodding.

"There will always be a place for you with the Blacks, Draco. You should not fear Uncle Lucius."

Draco looked up sharply, and Maia knew she had, perhaps, gone too far. "I don't fear him. I don't fear anyone."

"I didn't mean..."

"I know. I know what you meant. I don't fear him, but you know I am bound to obey him. As you are bound to obey your aunt and your new Head of House."

"You can rebel."

"Only fools and traitors rebel."

"And sometimes good men rebel too, Draco. Sometimes they defy their masters. When they know that they are in the right."

Draco sighed and shook his head, "I cannot believe he lied about the Imperius."

"Both our Houses helped in that lie, Draco. I have no wish to defend him, but that much is true."

"It was a sick lie to tell."

Maia nodded, and they said no more.

...

When Saturday morning broke, Maia rolled over and was thankful that she did not have to face another day of classes with the accusing stares of the rest of the students. But she had endured worse before. They had already been whispering about her behind their hands this year.

Let them whisper.

They could drown themselves with their whispers.

They were all cowards, to whisper.

Only Seamus had dared speak to her face, and he didn't count, because he was Seamus and more a fool than anything else.

Still, it infuriated her at breakfast.

_The daughter of an Azkaban convict..._

_The __secret __daughter of an Azkaban convict..._

_The wielder of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand..._

_And the spitting image of her..._

Let them whisper!

And the spitting image of Bellatrix? One moment she was Bellatrix and then in another she was Andromeda, as if the two women were polar opposites, a devil and a saint, rather than sisters who grew up side by side.

And she had seen the pictures.

She looked as much like Cassiopeia as she did any of the others. They all looked the same. Or at least, they all looked enough alike.

She was smaller than Cassiopeia, but her features were just as sharp.

She had Bellatrix's eyes and hair, but her lips looked like those of Isla.

They only said whatever thought seemed most scandalous.

And sometimes she wondered how they ever managed to think at all.

Filth and fools. The world was made up of filth and fools. And she was going to go to the library, where she might find Hermione and, in doing so, someone with a sense of decency and a brain in their head-

"I want to talk to you."

Maia turned quickly, and saw Neville Longbottom step out from behind one of the archways.

"I've been waiting for you, and I want to talk. Walk with me?" His lower lip quivered slightly, though his voice was steady.

Maia inclined her head, "Where shall we walk?"

"Towards the lake?"

Maia glanced down in that direction. "I propose the courtyard. It is more public."

Longbottom nodded, and side by side, they walked in the direction of the enclosed courtyard.

"What did you wish to discuss?"

The boy swallowed. "I demand that you hand over the wand formerly belonging to Bellatrix Lestrange. By the laws on our Ministry, it should have been snapped when they sent her to Azkaban. I don't even what to know how your family got round that, but it's the right of my House to have that wand and snap it now. I demand you hand it over."

"No."

"No?"

"Yes, Longbottom. I said no."

"It's my right to snap that wand. You-" he turned round to face her, stopping her where she stood, gripping her arm. "You have no right to carry that wand. You have no business carrying that wand. You should be _ashamed_ to carry that wand." His face was getting redder. "You know exactly what that bitch did to my parents. And by the Gods, I'll have my rights, and I'll snap it."

Maia did not even recognise the boy in front of her. This was not the stammering, nervous, near-Squib Longbottom she had grown to pity.

She stepped towards him, toe to toe, face to face. "Bellatrix Lestrange can rot in Azkaban until the end of days, and she'll never suffer enough for what she did. Do you think you can stand there in righteous indignation and act like I don't know that? Do you want to act like I'm on their side? Like I'm one of them? You know full well that I'm not. But hear this, if you'll hear nothing else. No witch of any merit hands over her wand to be snapped like it was meaningless. This is _my_ wand. And you're _not_ getting your hands on it."Her hand was gripped around her wand, and she almost felt it jump and twitch with excitement. "_It's_ _mine_."

Longbottom opened his mouth, like he wanted to say more, when a cry made them quickly step apart. Hermione Granger ran down the courtyard steps, her heavy schoolbag bouncing out behind her.

"Are you two alright?"

They quickly broke apart, and Longbottom nodded stiffly. He seemed to deflate, now that they had been interrupted. Maia was almost disappointed. The other Longbottom was one who had the potential to be respected.

"We're perfectly fine, Hermione. I was just about to go to the library. Would you care to join me?"

...

Walking down the corridor, Hermione heaved a great breath. "I'm not going to ask you about the wand."

"Oh?" said Maia snidely.

"No, I'm not. I imagine that you have your own reasons, and they'll mostly likely be twisted up in things like honour and blood and whatnot that matter to you and not to me."

"You're most likely right."

"Thank you. However, I just wanted to ask, if it really does work for you?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, when I got my wand from Ollivander's, he said the wand chooses the witch. That wand chose Bellatrix Lestrange the first time round, how can you be sure there isn't another wand out there that's better for you?"

Maia pursed her lips, "It's quite common for wands to be passed down through families. We have many family wands at home. There may be a wand for me at _Ollivander's_, or somewhere else, but I do not struggle with this one. It serves me well. A wand... a wand is linked to our magic, you know that. When my Aunt gave it to me for the first time, it had not been used for many years. It was starved of life and magic. It sensed that I was a Black, it felt the Black magic, the Black blood. And it wanted to be used. It has worked well for me since that day, and I have no reason to complain."

"And would you never change it?"

"I thought we weren't going to discuss the wand."

Hermione shrugged, unrepentant.

Maia rolled her eyes. "If I do, it will not be because the school is gossiping."

Hermione nodded. "Good. Now that's covered, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about."

And she grabbed Maia by the elbow, roughly, and started to pull her away from the library and into a disused classroom...

...


	26. The House Elf Liberation Front

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Twenty Five_ ~ The House Elf Liberation Front_

Maia stalked over to a nearby desk, pulled out a chair and sat down whilst crossing her ankles to the side, "I hope, Hermione, that you have a very good reason for this."

Hermione nodded her head and sat opposite her, "Yes, I was wondering if you knew what happened to Harry, Ron, Draco and me after the Dark Mark was cast into the sky?"

"The Ministry came, re-covered Harry's wand, ridiculously suggested that it was cast by him, and then claimed that it was in fact done by Mr. Crouch's House Elf."

Hermione nodded again, once, "Exactly. That was what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh. Are we going to overhaul the Ministry? It's a long time coming and I fully support you, but perhaps we ought to wait until we get our OWLs first." Said Maia, tipping back her head with a laugh and a sneer at the Ministry's expense.

"No, don't be ridiculous. I don't want to take over the Ministry. I want to do something about House Elves."

"_Do_ something about House Elves? Whatever do you mean?"

"I was not aware that the magical world was based upon the brutal and despicable practice of slavery-"

"-slavery!"

"Yes. Slavery. It's disgusting. Something has to be done. I knew you'd understand-"

"Understand? What in Merlin's name am I supposed to be understanding? What are you accusing me-?"

"Accusing you?"

"Yes!" said Maia, standing quickly as the chair scraped loudly against the floor, "Accusing! Accusing me!" She pushed her finger at her chest, her whole body tensed.

Hermione went pale, "You keep a House Elf? Like Mr. Crouch?"

"Hermione, every well-to-do wizarding family has a House Elf! Hogwarts is filled with House Elves! Are you calling us, me, despicable? Because-"

Hermione pushed her chair back she leant forwards, her hands clenched at her sides, "If you can't see evil in front of you, then yes I am! And I know about the Elves. I found out at the Welcoming Feast. Never, never have I been so –"

"Sweet Salazar, Hermione! Where did you think your food came from? Who did you think made your bed? Tidied your room? This room?" cried Maia, throwing her arms up as she spun round to make her point.

"And you don't care?"

Maia stopped abruptly. She pursed her lips and, with great effort, sat down again. She took a deep breath before speaking again, "Hermione, I do not know what you saw transpire between Mr. Crouch and his House Elf. I am given to understand that Mr. Crouch is not a kind-hearted man, and I have also been informed that his House Elf broke the law regarding the possession of a wand. I do not know how you came to believe that House Elves are un-free slaves. But I resent the accusation that I treat Twinkie and Trixie as slaves, or that I view them as such." Her tone was stiff and forced.

Hermione took a deep breath, "But if you keep them in your home, and make them work for you, and give them no payment, how are they not slaves? How can you view them as anything else?"

"Because they are members of my family."

"I don't understand."

"And I don't know quite how to explain it. You see, they may cook and clean, but they are not really a servant, and certainly not a slave. It's a rather long and old story, and I'm not entirely certain if I will be able to tell it well. There was a time, a long ago and distant time, when witches and wizards and muggles lived side-by-side. As we withdrew further and further into hiding, and eventually secrecy, so did the magical creatures as well. The centaurs hid, and the vampires hid, and so too did the House Elves. Except, House Elves do not like to live alone. They like to live with lots of people, and especially families with small children. You would not understand, because you are not a House Elf. I do not understand either, because I am not a House Elf. But they truly find joy in the company of others – of their own kind and witches and wizards. They are homely spirits, some might say. Creatures of hearth and home. So they started to live among wizarding families, and have become like an extra branch of the family. That is why they often live with the older families. Trixie came to my parents in a different manner, but Twinky can trace her family tree, alongside the Blacks, right back to the days of the Founders."

"But how are they happy?"

"They just are. They're members of the family. They're like... they're like the spinster aunts and old maids who never leave and help to raise the children, except they are there by choice."

"They can choose to leave?"

"Yes. They simply never would."

"How can you say never? Do you presume to speak for them all?"

"Do you?" she answered quickly, raising an eyebrow, and thankful for all those years of Rhetoric class under the diligent teaching of her Aunt.

Hermione frowned, screwing up her face. Finally, she sat down again and unclenched her fists. "I can accept that I may have misunderstood, and that you see your House Elves as family, and they you. But what about the way they're treated? You say that you treat your House Elves like family, but does everyone? Mr. Crouch threw his House Elf out of the street as if she were nothing to him."

Maia looked away, "How did the House Elf take it?"

"I have never watched anything quite so terrible before."

"It's like throwing a member of the family out of the streets, and I cannot believe Mr. Crouch did it. Well, I can, but I simply wish I could not. There are those who mistreat their House Elves. My Uncle Lucius is not kind to Dobby."

"Well, I was going to suggest freeing House Elves en masse, but surely there is a better way of going about it, if that will not work? Surely there is something that could be done? Perhaps I may, _may_, be mistaken in House Elves in general, but I was not mistaken in what I saw at the World Cup. Mr. Crouch treated Winky barbarically, and if others are doing the same, they must be stopped. There is no excuse. No justification. None whatsoever."

"Yes, I rather get the picture, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously at Maia's tone, "We could form an organisation to promote Elfish welfare, so that they had somewhere to go if they were mistreated by their families. They should not have to suffer at the hands of their families any more than they should at the hands of anyone else!"

Maia sighed, "I understand, and I would certainly support some way to help Mr. Crouch's Elf..." She paused and looked up at Hermione. "Hermione, you understand what I said about family?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to expand yours?"

"What do you mean?"

Maia glanced towards the door, just to make sure it was properly shut and leant forwards. "If you want to understand House Elves, then you need to meet one. I can currently think of a poor, lost and homeless House Elf wandering the streets of England. Would you like to have a House Elf join your family?"

"I'm not sure... My parents..."

"Don't the muggles say that charity starts at home?"

Hermione sucked in her lips, "Well, how do you propose we find her?"

"Easy." Said Maia, leaning back in her chair and smirking. "Trixie!"

There was a small 'pop' and Trixie was suddenly standing next to Maia. She glanced around and immediately started bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Oooh. Trixie is being in Hogwarts! Trixie is being excited! She is not being in Hogwarts for a long time!"

Maia smiled, "And do you like it?"

"Trixie is liking it very much, though it is not looking as comfortable as home now. Is Mistress Maia being happy here? Why is you needing Trixie?"

"Because, my friend Hermione and I were talking about House Elves. We wondered if you had perhaps heard anything about the House Elves of the House of Crouch?"

Immediately, Trixie's ears drooped. "It is being a sad business. A sad, sad business."

Hermione leant over, her elbows resting on her knees. "Could you tell us about it?"

Trixie scuffed her foot, looked around, then pulled over a nearby chair and settled herself between Hermione and Maia. "Is I meant only to be saying about Winky, or the whole story?"

Maia and Hermione shared a glance and answered in unison, "The whole story."

"Well, as you is knowing, there is not many House Elves, and we is all talking to each other a lot. It is nice, to be knowing all the gossip, and boasting about our families. There is always a lot to boast about too, being from the House of Black." Said Trixie, puffing out her chest and nodding smartly.

"The Crouch Elves used to have a lot to say too, but they was getting old, and their House was getting old, and then there was only being Mr. Crouch and Mrs. Crouch and young Master. Crouch and Winky. And then there was only being Mr. Crouch and Winky. And Winky was not talking to all of us anymore. And Winky is not being happy anymore. We is thinking it is because Master. Crouch and Mrs. Crouch and all the House is gone. But it is being many years and we is hardly seeing Winky anymore, and when we is, she is not being happy. She is not ever being happy. And then we is hearing about the World Cup – and Trixie was being so scared, because Mistress. Maia was being missing and the Dark Lord's men were being bad, and the Dark Lord's time was not being good for House Elves or our families either. But then after the World Cup, Trixie is hearing that Winky has been sacked. That she has been thrown out of her House and family."

Trixie's eyes were quickly filling with tears, and Maia passed her a handkerchief embroidered with the Black family crest. "And Trixie is thinking that she is knowing Winky since she was just a little Elflet and that Winky could never be so bad as to be thrown out by her family! And now Winky is all alone! And has no family! And Mr. Crouch is having no family at all either!" Trixie buried her face in the handkerchief and blew her nose loudly.

Maia patted her awkwardly on her back, "Hermione and I were thinking much the same thing."

Trixie nodded and sobbed.

"And so we wondered, if you might be able to find Winky and we could ask her if she would like to join the Granger family. It is only a small family, and they are mainly muggles, but their daughter is a witch and they have joined the magical world. And we though who could help them better, than someone like Winky?"

Trixie looked up straight at Hermione, "You would make Winky part of your family? Even though she is disgraced?"

"I don't believe in disgrace."

"You is being very odd, if you is not believing in honour and disgrace. But you is still being able to love Winky, and care for her, and make her part of your family?"

"That I am able to do."

"Then I is going to find Winky. Shall I bring her back to Hogwarts?"

Maia nodded, "When you find her, bring her straight back to me."

Trixie nodded, "Is there anything else?"

Maia paused, "Could you ask Twinky to make some of Draco's favourite biscuits and send them to him, please? I think he isn't very happy."

Trixie's ears drooped again, "Master Draco is being such a good, dear boy. Trixie is sad to hear he is not being happy. Twinky and I will make him many, many biscuits and you must be telling us if he is needing anything else!"

Maia nodded, "I promise."

And then Trixie vanished.

Hermione turned to Maia, "Malfoy is a dear, good boy?"

"Yes. He is the best and dearest of boys." She answered stoutly.

Hermione simply shook her head and sighed. "I think I understand a little better now. I'll talk to Winky, if we find her and when I know her better, and ask she what she thinks House Elves might need."

"That's a good idea, actually."

They were silent for a moment, until Maia spoke again, "However, if you want to set up some sort of organisation or commission, or champion some cause, I may have a good one for you."

"Oh, and what's that?"

"_Werewolves."_

...


	27. The Werewolf Equality Action Group

**I do not own Harry Potter**

Chapter Twenty Six_ ~ The Werewolf Equality Action Group_

"_Werewolves?"_

"Yes, Hermione, werewolves. Is it really so confusing to you?"

Hermione paused and pursed her lips. "I'm only annoyed that this hasn't occurred to me before, considering everything that's happened to poor Professor Lupin. Perhaps we ought to simply start an organisation demanding more openness and equality within the magical world more generally?"

"Oh, because that would go over _so_ well."

"It's true though. This is all deeply unpleasant."

"Everything's unpleasant when you look close enough. And truth is a matter of perception."

Hermione let out a huff of air, "I'm glad I don't have your world view, cynicism doesn't suit a child."

"Well, idealism suits no-one at all." She answered smartly, and leant back in her chair. "At least that's what Aunt Cassiopeia says. Now, what do you say we do something about addressing the werewolf situation? We can take down our enemies one at a time, and so leave House Elves until there is a more defined plan in place. It's slightly more time consuming I'll admit, but if you attack everyone all in one go, they'll say we're aiming for total control of some sort."

"Enemies? I really don't think..."

"Don't be squeamish, Hermione. Everyone has enemies-"

"Yes, but when you say it like that it sounds so... aggressive..."

"I thought we were being aggressive? I thought we were attacking our social flaws, one step at a time? Werewolves, House Elves, the Aurors, Fudge, Crouch..." She ticked them off on her fingers as she went. "We'll get them all in the end, one by one."

Hermione screwed her nose up, "As long as you don't _actually_ turn this into an attempt to take over the Ministry or magical society in general."

Maia smirked, "Oh no, I couldn't possibly do that unless Aunt Cassiopeia ordered me to. Besides, she's got it all in hand already. She and Uncle Lucius just give out bribes and blackmail people whenever they really want something done their way."

Hermione sighed and shook her head, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

...

"Hey mate." Said Ron, sitting down on the floor. He leant back, resting against the armchair behind him.

Harry looked up from staring at the fire. "Hey."

"You ok?"

"I'm fine."

Ron chewed his lips while the tips of his ears went slightly red. "You sure? Moody's class... And well, you've been a bit quiet since then..."

Harry shrugged, "I'm fine. Wish we could go play Quidditch though."

Ron nodded, "Me too. Chess?"

Harry slid down off the armchair and settled himself opposite Ron. "I might stand a chance now, you know. I've been playing the Blacks all summer."

"Yeah, well, just don't go a Slytherin-tactics on me."

...

Nymphadora Tonks sat at her desk, slowly sipping from a mug of herbal tea. She'd given up caffeine recently, though the detox-stage wasn't going well for her. A pile of papers lay sprawled out in front of her, as she supposedly searched for the whereabouts of Remus Lupin. She was currently 'reviewing' case files of crimes committed since his disappearance, to see if any could be traced back to him.

Not that it was going to lead to anything, of course, but one had to have something on one's desk in order to at least to be appearing to work.

A cough behind her made her look up. She put down what was left of her tea, "Wotcher, Amos?"

The advantage of her sudden fame and rise through the ranks was that she was already being treated like a professional, experienced Auror. She was on first name terms with all the office staff now, except those at the most senior levels.

Amos eyed her tea, "I never had you down for the health food type, Tonks."

She shrugged, "You are what you eat, as the muggles say."

Amos frowned, "Yes... Well..." He shook his head in confusion, "Are you having any luck with those files."

She sighed, carefully putting on a disappointed face. "No, not much. I know that some of them must be linked back to him – that suspicious burglary over in Weymouth for example. Couldn't have been done by a muggle, but all the muggle money was taken. He needs something to live off, after all. But there's no way to prove it was him. And it was over a month ago now, if he's got a wand, the trail will have to have gone cold by this point..." She pushed a hand back through her hair, "I just want the satisfaction of locking him up, you know?"

"Well, you had the satisfaction of cursing him, that must count for something."

"I only repelled him, Amos."

"Yes, well you saved your cousin, and that counts for a hell of a lot more than anything else."

She pursed her lips, "I know... I'm dreading a report coming through that he has got his hands on a child... You know he was turned by Greyback?"

Amos paled, "I know. And Merlin save is from such a report ever coming through." He was silent for a moment, "By the way, have you heard the news?"

"Heard what?"

"Kirkwood's been moved as part of a Ministry re-shuffle. They've pushed her over to the Department of Magical Legislation."

"Magical Legislation?"

"Yep, she's heading that now, checking and drafting the wording of new bills to be put through the Wizengamot."

Tonk's screwed up her nose, "It'll suit her, but why would they?"

"Re-shuffle, Tonks. I forget how green you are sometimes. Re-shuffle's basically code for, we've messed everything up so we're going to pretend to weed out the weak links and hope the public believes that few new faces will sort everything out."

"Kirkwood was hardly a weak link, Amos."

He glanced around the office, then leant over her desk, "That's not how the Minister sees it. Black escapes, granted he was innocent, but he still escaped, and you know the buck ends with the Head when it comes to Azkaban. Then Harry Potter manages to run off from his aunt and uncle, even though he's a high risk target. Black's on the loose all year, breaking into Hogwarts. Then don't get me started on Pettigrew and Lupin holding Harry Potter and the rest of those kids hostage, and now the World Cup fiasco? Kirkwood's career is over, Tonks. Cut your ties. You're doing well here, she's on the way out. Minister Fudge won't even read owls from her now."

Tonk's hair faded from purple to grey. "None of that was her fault."

Amos shrugged, "I'm just saying, keep your head in the game. I've a feeling you'll be leading the search for Lupin by New Year. The department's in for a major shakeup. It's talent that's going to get you seniority now, not form-filling and not the age of your name."

Tonks reached back for her tea, taking a gulp. "Well, I suppose that can only be a good thing. Who's the new Head then?"

Amos grimaced, "Rufus Scrimgeour."

"Oh."

...

"I saw we call it The Werewolf Equality Action Group." announced Hermione, as her quill almost flew over the page with the speed of her writing.

Maia looked up from where she was designing posters, at present calling for a full enquiry into the investigation against Remus Lupin. "Don't you think that might be considered a bit... muggle?"

Hermione flushed, "And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, I suppose. But wouldn't the Noble Society For The Promotion of Werewolf Education sound better? It'll appeal to the purebloods."

Hermione huffed, "Part of me wants to say there's no point even trying to appeal to the purebloods."

Maia raised an eyebrow pointedly.

Hermione waved her hand, "Oh hush, I know. But really, can you see Mr. Malfoy supporting us? Or your Aunt Cassiopeia?"

"I suppose not, be we should try and appeal to the purebloods. They're the ones with gold. We simply have to make them think it was their idea."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Manipulation, of course."

...

Cassiopeia Black sat alone in the library of Black Manor. In the distance, she could hear the roll and crash of waves against the hard stone walls. Her eyes squinted as she leant over, deciphering the faded lettering on a centuries-old scroll.

_Surely there must be another way?_

...

The two girls now sat cross-legged, surrounded by scraps of parchment in the middle of the classroom. Most of the day had passed. House Elves had provided them with lunch, and dinner. The windows were darkening.

Yet still, their revolution had no name.

Hermione's hair grew bushier by the hour. "We _cannot_ call it the Noble Society For The Promotion Of Werewolf Education! It makes it sound like none of them can read!"

Maia pinched the bridge of her nose, "Oh? And how is the Werewolf Liberation Front any better. It will make us sound like Marxists!"

"The purebloods won't know what Marxism is anyway!"

"Well, they won't link it when they find out!"

Hermione buried her head in her hands, "How about, We Demand Equal Rights For Werewolves, A Through Re-Consideration Of The Case Against Remus Lupin And An End To Ministry Bigotry?"

"I suppose that covers it, but will it ever fit on the badges?"

They caught each other's eye and laughed.

Hermione flicked back through the leaves of parchment, "What about Promoting Werewolf-Wizard Relations?"

Maia paused, "What if we changed it to The Noble Society for the Discouragement of Anti-Werewolf Discrimination?"

Again, Hermione buried her head in her hands...

...

Luckily, there was still plenty of time to go before curfew. Hermione lead the way towards the Gryffindor Common Room, while Maia followed somewhat reluctantly. While this new venture would undoubtedly gain the approval of her mother and Sirius, it would most likely meet with vehement opposition from her Aunt Cassiopeia. There was also the added danger that she would be publically championing a cause from which she could not later back down. When one demanded werewolf equality, one could hardly claim later to have been treading the middle ground.

One did not gain and maintain power by charging ahead.

No, power came from the wings and the shadows.

Wasn't that want Aunt Cassiopeia said? Always said?

She wasn't even sure what had made her open her mouth, now. She had no idea what had made those words fall out. What had made her say that they should stand for the werewolves?

Of course she _cared_, but she cared about plenty of things. Few of them had made her risk her neck before.

She sighed as Hermione clambered through the portrait hole. The Fat Lady eyed her suspiciously, and Maia turned away with her chin stuck out.

"What are you doing here?"

She bit her lip, "Longbottom, as far as I'm aware, there are no rules prohibiting me from standing in a Hogwarts corridor."

"This is the entrance to Gryffindor, Black."

"How observant of you to notice, Longbottom. Surely you aren't concerned for its security? That's hardly your forte."

Neville Longbottom flushed, "But feigning innocence is yours?"

Maia opened her mouth to retort, but cut herself off. What she had been about to say was needlessly cruel.

"Cat got your tongue?" spat Neville, "I don't know how you've got the gall to walk up and down this place like you do. You ought to be ashamed. And you bloody well ought to hand over that-"

Just then, the portrait swung open once more and Harry, Ron and Hermione climbed out.

Harry looked from Maia to Neville, "Is everything alright, Cousin Maia? Neville?"

Maia turned to Harry and Ron and curtseyed slightly, "Everything is perfectly well, Cousin Harry, Mr. Weasley."

Neville said nothing and pushed his way through the trio, hauling himself into the Common Room and out of sight.

Ron frowned, "What did you do, Black?"

Maia raised an eyebrow, "Me? I didn't do anything."

"I've never seen Neville look half so worked up. You must have done something."

Maia shrugged carelessly and turned to Hermione, who was also frowning. "Didn't we have something to tell them, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned a moment longer before letting it go – at least for the time being – and turned back to Ron and Harry. "Maia and I have decided to set up a campaign to help Professor Lupin, and the other werewolves."

Ron grinned, "Brilliant."

Harry was quiet for a moment, "Are you sure that's safe? Moony's-" he glanced around to make sure the coast was clear before continuing, "Moony's not going to be causing any trouble for now, he's not in any danger... Surely we shouldn't draw attention to him?"

Maia nodded, "I understand, but I think that we can campaign for werewolves more broadly, and make part of the case a demand for the re-assessment of the case again him. We don't have to claim that we know either way, and we certainly don't have to indicate knowledge that has the potential to be seen as delicate."

Ron shook his head, "Bloody Slytherins. Can't you just make a plain sentence? Just once. Fred and George would sell tickets to see it done."

Hermione sighed, "I think that we should go ahead. It's disgusting, all that legislation against werewolves. Have either of you even read half of it? I looked it all up last year when Snape set that essay." She stamped her foot, "Either way, I'm chairwoman of the campaign, Maia's secretary, Ron's going to be our treasurer and Harry's going to be deputy chairman."

"Do we get a say in this?" said Ron.

"No." Said Maia and Hermione in unison.

Hermione held up a tin and pushed it towards Ron. "Here, this is where you can put donations, and Maia and I have already made badges. It's a sickle for a badge."

"A sickle?"

"Maia said we had to come across as exclusive."

"A sickle?"

"Yes, Ronald, a sickle. Advertising space in the _Prophet_ is expensive anyway."

"Can we at least see these badges?"

Maia stepped forwards and handed them each a badge. Ron screwed up his nose, while Harry lifted up his glances to squint peer closer. "What does it say? The print is very small..."

"It says N-S-P-W-W-R." Said Hermione proudly, "Maia and I compromised. It stands for The Noble Society For The Promotion of Werewolf-Wizard Relations."

Ron leant over the badge again, "Nuh-spwer? You called your big campaign to save Professor Lupin Nuh-spwer? It sounds like a noise you'd make if you tried to cough and puke at the same time."

Hermione snatched back the tin and hit him roundly over the head with it.

The revolution had begun.

...


	28. Lines in the Sand

**I do not own Harry Potter. **

_**Chapter Twenty Seven – Lines In The Sand**_

"I hearby call this meeting to order." Hermione rapped the gavel smartly upon the desk of the empty classroom, where she was chairing the first official meeting of the N. S. P. W. W. R. Over the last week or so, she had spent most of her free time preparing drafts of posters and leaflets and finishing off the first batch of badges. Now, she had called the meeting to order and could feel the excitement building in her stomach. Next to her, Maia began taking the minutes in neat, cursive writing.

Hermione looked down from the desk expectantly at the gathered members of the society.

Ginny Weasley was sitting right at the front, grinning up at her. Ron and Harry were next to her, both looking a little nervous for some reason. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan had also turned up, on Maia's invitation. Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil from Ravenclaw were also present, and had brought a number of legal texts and articles with them from the library, regarding past campaigns relating to werewolves and current and past legislation. Hermione suspected that would most likely come in handy. She knew that their membership was currently small – comprised of their own year group and friends – but she knew, absolutely knew, that she would make this grow and make this work.

"Does anyone have a motion they would like to put forward?"

Harry and Ron shared a glance, and Ginny's hand shot into the air.

"Yes, Miss. Weasley?"

Ginny sniggered, "Since when have I been Miss. Weasley?"

Hermione looked pained, "Since Miss. Black insisted we adhere to the formalities in case anyone ever wanted to inspect our minutes. Adhering to the formalities will give us more weight once we take this to the next level. So, do you have a motion you would like to propose, but otherwise questions have to wait until the end."

"I'd like to propose we undertake some form of direct action."

"Such as?"

"Protest. Picketing. Rioting. Anything that will make them actually listen to us."

Hermione shuffled her papers, "Yes... Well, I do appreciate your enthusiasm Ginny, but I think that we ought to start with peaceful protest first."

Ron coughed, "That's not what you said at the Welcoming Feast, when you refused to eat your dinner?"

More paper shuffling.

Maia raised an eyebrow, "As much as I hate to interrupt, but can we actually discuss something worth putting in the minutes? I do have other business to attend to."

Ginny huffed, "I think that we should just make them sit up and pay attention. No one ever listens to us."

"Plenty of people would listen to me." Said Maia snidely.

Hermione turned sharply, "Be nice, Maia."

Maia shrugged and went back to taking the minutes. She was seriously starting to wonder if all of this was worth facing the possibility of Aunt Cassiopeia's wrath. Of course Remus was worth it, but all this consorting with the lower orders might get tedious if none of them knew anything about politics. Not that she didn't appreciate Ginny, but still... And what about the rest of the werewolves? Could she be sure _they_ were really worth it? _Really?_

Ernie coughed and raised his hand, "I just wanted to say that Mr. Finch-Fletchley and I would prefer it if this at least began in a civil manner. There's no call for violence as yet."

Ginny turned round in her chair, "Oh? Isn't there? And what about Professor Lupin? What about him? You don't mind forgetting that he's on the run for something he didn't do, as long as you don't have to get your precious hands dirty, or risk losing some of your even more precious reputation?"

"Ginny!" gasped Hermione.

Ginny turned round in her chair and shrugged unrepentantly. "I'm just telling it like it is."

Ernie spluttered, "It's certainly not that! Certainly not! I just... Well, I'm as disgusted at the treatment of Professor Lupin as you, of course I am-"

"Are you?" she snapped back sarcastically, not bothering to look at him.

"Yes. Yes of course. But really! We can't start setting fire to things. Can we?"

"No. No, we can't." Said Hermione.

Terry Boot stood up, "I don't mean to be rude, but are we sure that Professor Lupin is innocent?"

Hermione sat up a little straighter, "I'm afraid that demanding an enquiry into the presupposed guilt of Professor Remus Lupin is one of our core demands. If you cannot support that, then you will have to leave."

Terry Boot sat back down, abashed and suitably rebuffed. "I only meant that he _may_ be guilty. We can't declare him innocent without trial any more than the Ministry can declare him guilty."

"Take that back. Of course he's innocent." Said Ron hotly, "Professor Lupin is no more a Death Eater than my dad or yours."

Maia sighed, "No, Mr. Boot has a point. We're no more qualified to declare innocence by character observation than the Prophet try him by media slander. We should make that clear or else they'll use it to discredit it us."

Hermione banged the gavel loudly against the desk, "We've been here bickering for almost twenty minutes. I want to get something done! People!"

Anthony Goldstein looked up from where he'd buried his head in his hands, "Why don't we just spend tonight putting up the posters advertising membership and our core aims, if we can all agree to them. How does that sound, Hermione? I mean, Chairwitch. Granger?"

"Productive."

"Good, then why don't you read them out?"

Hermione cleared her throat and began to read.

"_The newly-formed Noble Society for the Promotion of Werewolf-Wizard Relations is calling all like-minded witches and wizards of good character to join them in their demand that the following issues be fully addressed by the relevant parties in the Wizengamot and Ministry of Magic:_

_Current restrictive legislation relating to the movement and employment of werewolves be re-assessed, in order to judge its utility and effectiveness in ensuring the safety of citizens during the full moon and whether its impact on the living conditions of werewolves during the non-full moon period is unduly restrictive._

_The lack of availability of the Wolfsbane Potion should be considered at the highest levels, in order to ensure the safety of citizens and werewolves alike during the full moon period._

_A full enquiry should be made into the conviction without trial or evidence of presumed Death Eater, Mr. Remus John Lupin._

_That misinformation regarding the nature of lycanthropy and werewolves be re-considered in order for a re-approachment of the werewolf and wizarding communities to be attempted."_

"It's very... mild." Said Ginny.

"Maia... Sorry, Miss. Black and I didn't want to scare away any potential supporters."

Pada Patil raised her hand, "And if I could just query..."

Maia rolled her eyes as she turned back to her minutes. These people were all very tedious.

...

The next evening, Maia glared at the Transfiguration homework before her. The library was quiet – it was too early in the term for all but the most diligent students and the Ravenclaws to have set up shop there – when she looked up, hearing a door slam.

Draco stormed through the library, ignoring the scandalised protests of Madam Pince.

He sat down into the chair opposite Maia, dropping his satchel to the floor, and pushing her pile of books to one side to lean across and hiss, "_What_ is Salazar's name – in the name of all our ancestors – do you think you're _doing?"_

His cheeks were flushed and his teeth were all-but bared.

"Draco..."

"Don't. Don't you dare 'Draco' me." He snapped, "What do you think you're doing?"

Maia sat up straight, arching her neck. "I'm launching my career as a politician."

Draco spluttered, "Politician? Political radical more like! This reeks of Granger."

"I don't believe that either of us have put our names to anything as yet."

"Oh please, the posters are all over the school. You may as well have written you names in blood."

"Don't be melodramatic."

"Don't be naive." He spat, clenching his fists. "You know what's-"

"-don't be stupid either." She answered through gritted teeth, leaning forward to meet him. "You shouldn't loosen your lips so, brother."

Draco's eyes flashed. "Fine. But you know to what I am referring, and you know its gravity. I don't care if Granger and her merry band march or even dance their way to the execution block. But I'm not going to let them lead you with them. I don't know what hold they've got over-"

"-I'm insulted. Nobody has a hold over me. Nobody. I am a Black. Nobody rules over me. Nobody leads me. I lead myself. Don't make me curse you for your insinuations-."

"-They must have a hold over you, or they've changed you. Because I don't recognise you Maia. Not like this. What do you think you're _doing_?"

Maia sighed, relenting, and pushed her long hair back out of her face, "Maybe I'm trying to do something _right_, Draco_._ Something _good_."

Draco sat back, staring at her, his eyes wide. "Maia..." He stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. He looked at her again, opened his mouth and closed it, before stepped back and gripping the hair at the side of his head. "Have you..." He started pacing, "Have you heard yourself, Maia? Have you thought this through? Have you thought about what you're doing?" He turned around again, slamming both his hands down on the table, "Critique me all you want for my supposed loose lips, but have you thought about what you've done, what you've put your name to? You may well have signed not only your own death edict, but of your whole House, of all of us? If you lose..."

Maia stood up, grabbing her books and shoving them at random into her satchel, "_If_ we lose? Or _when_ we lose, perhaps? You sound like Uncle Lucius." She swung the bag over her shoulder and crossed around the table and came to a halt in front of him, leaning forwards to hiss in his hear. "Don't shame your Black blood by playing a coward. We don't plan to lose. We _never_ lose."

And she spun on her heel and stormed away, pushing a first year out of her path as she went.

...

The next morning, all the posters were gone.

...


	29. Not Yet

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**Chapter Twenty Eight – Not Yet**

"Did you do it?"

Maia turned around, drawing her wand, and pulling her arm out of grip of Hermione Granger.

"Did you do it?" Hermione hissed again, "Did you take down the posters?"

Maia straightened herself, "No."

Hermione frowned, "Are you lying to me? Of all the people in our group you're..."

"What? Hermione, I'm what, exactly?"

"The most likely to back down. You're the one with the most _reason_ to back down."

She laughed, derisively. "Perhaps you should look to your enemies, before you look to your friends, Hermione. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm late for class."

...

Draco leant back against the wall of the owlry, tilting back his head to rest it against the cold, icy stone. The owl he had sent was already a dark spot on the horizon, and there was no calling it back, no going back, now.

...

Tracey and Daphne carefully checked the lock on the door, before shooing away the ever-encroaching Askella, and then stood facing each other in the middle of the dorm room.

"We shouldn't be doing this without her, it isn't right." Said Daphne.

Tracey shook her head, "What she's doing isn't right, Daphne. You know that. This is meant to be a partnership. When was the last time she consulted us on anything? She _can't_ consult, you know that."

"I know that I've known her since I was six, and I'd trust her with my life. We shouldn't go behind her back."

"Like she's gone behind ours?"

Daphne sighed and closed her eyes. Slowly, she massaged her temples. "It's not Maia that's the problem, it's Granger. You know it, I know it. Draco sure as Salazar knows it."

"I know it. But I'm not going to let Granger ruin our plans. Do you have any idea how hard it's been for me - _me_ – to get where I am? To achieve-"

Daphne leant forwards and reached out to take her friend's hand, "I know, but-"

"No-" she snapped, pulling away, pulling back, and furiously brushing tears out of her eyes, "No you don't. You don't have any idea! How could you? How could you possibly have any idea? Pureblood. Daughter of the House of Greengrass. Rich daddy, pretty mummy. How could you possibly understand what it's like to sit under that bloody Sorting Hat and be told that you've got to go to Slytherin with your liberal politician _mudblood_ father, your mother whose family hasn't been worth a damn in two hundred years and no more money in the bank that they've put their together themselves. I'm sorry Daphne, but you don't have a bloody clue. And neither does Maia, not really, And I'm not going to let either her or you ruin this. I'm not going anywhere as a Seeker. I've got to be Slytherin Princess. Because all I'm ever going to have is what I make myself, and standing in both of your shadows won't get me anywhere in three years time when we're out of here and I've got to make my own damn way."

She'd backed away, backed up against the wall, and then turned quickly, running out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

...

Blaise stuck his tousled head out of the door, watched Tracey hurl herself past him, and swallowed. He shook his head and quietly closed the door.

...

By the time dinner came, Maia couldn't quite face sitting in the Great Hall. Moody's decision to try and force them all to endure and throw off the Imperius had had decidedly unpleasant consequences. Cousin Harry had performed marvellously... She, well, one day she would kill Moody and the score would be settled. So, rather than head for the Great Hall, she instead took herself out to sit in the courtyard, wrapping her cloak tightly around herself. Autumn was drawing in close already.

"I thought I'd bring you something."

She looked up and saw Draco settle himself next to her as he passed the plate across.

"I charmed it to stay hot as well."

"Well aren't you the budding gentleman." She snapped sarcastically.

"There's nothing budding about it. I was born a gentleman."

She rolled her eyes, "That's not what I remember Aunt Cassiopeia saying... on multiple occasions." She paused, "And you ought to leave Draco. I don't want to quarrel with you, not again. I do so hate to quarrel with you."

Draco sighed and shuffled along so that Maia could lean against him, regardless of what she said, "Do you ever miss those days, when it was just our little set being tutored by Aunt Cassiopeia?"

"All the time. It was much simpler."

He nodded, "I wish we could just go back in time. "

"I hope that I am not being a disappointment to you, brother."

"A disappointment, never. A worry, absolutely."

She bit her bottom lip, "If it is any help, I _am_ trying to be a restraining influence upon the group."

Draco looked away, "I wrote to our Aunt." He said it quickly, to get it out and over and done with at once.

Silence.

Maia stood, dropping the plate to the floor where it clattered and smashed against the stone paving. "You did not?"

"It was for you own good!"

"My own... my own good!" She started pacing, "No... I can't... I can't even look at you right now Draco."

She turned and started walking away, leaving Draco, once again, alone with the ice and cold.

...

"Maia, are you ok?"

"Go away, Hermione." She spat, picking up her pace and not looking back.

Once again, Hermione grabbed her by her elbow and pushed her into an abandoned classroom.

"Hermione, you have to come up with an alternative kidnapping routine. You're becoming predictable."

"Well you have to change the damn record. What's wrong with you?" she snapped back, sitting down on a nearby desk with a huff. "I've had to leave Ron to deal with Harry to try and sort you out, and Merlin knows how that's going to end!"

"What's wrong with Cousin Harry?"

Hermione tugged at the hair behind her ears, "Do you think he's particularly enjoying Moody's lessons? I mean... I know I'm not, and I know none of you are either... But that Killing Curse really freaked him out, and I know he won't talk about it..."

Maia sighed, "I never even noticed."

Hermione smiled weakly, "Well, you aren't exactly known for your caring ways... Now what's wrong?"

Maia sat down at an opposite desk, "I'm concerned about our society. My Aunt will surely disapprove, and while that alone is not enough to stop me, I do not feel this is the best time to rock the flying carpet, so to speak. You were there. You saw what happened at the World Cup. I don't want to make the wrong enemies."

"And those enemies might leave you alone, if you don't make yourself a target?" deduced Hermione quickly.

Maia nodded, looking away.

"Because you can hide behind your Noble House and your purer than pure blood?"

Again, Maia nodded.

"Then you're not a particularly bright Slytherin." Snapped Hermione, "The moment Sirius escaped and you all took him in, you may as well have become muggleborns. You ought to have realised that. There's nothing you can really do to stay on _his_ side now. And did you honestly think you could play for the Dark side whilst harbouring Harry Potter."

Maia smiled thinly, "You'd be surprised how slippery a Slytherin's tongue can be. We could have managed it."

"Really?"

"Most likely."

Hermione shook her head, "You _could_ have done it, but would you?" She could not brink herself to ask '_will you?'_

Maia swallowed, "Maybe... if you had asked me in first year, or maybe even second. But no, not now."

Hermione slipped down off the desk and sat down next to Maia, squeezing her hand. "You shouldn't worry so much. They won't really come back, they can't. They're just sick old men. You-Know-Who isn't really coming back."

Maia looked at Hermione, the truth half on her lips already. But there was no point. Hermione didn't need telling, she knew as well as she did.

Saying it just didn't help.

Not yet.

...


	30. Toujours Pur

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**Chapter Twenty Nine – Toujours Pur**

_To my most honoured Aunt, Cassiopeia Andromeda Black,_

_I am writing to you for advice, as I know that you will always steer me true. I am worried about my cousin, Maia Violetta. I regard her as a sister, and I am troubled and concerned by her recent behaviour and the company which she is at present keeping. _

_My first and most pressing concern is her recent affiliation with, and I am afraid to say leadership and creation of, a political organisation going by the name 'The Noble Society For The Promotion Of Werewolf-Wizard Relations'. We both know that Maia Violetta has always been sympathetic to werewolves. I attribute this both to her kind-hearted nature, which I naturally esteem but which I had thought she had overcome to be more pragmatic, and to the influence of one Remus John Lupin, who has clearly influenced her since her earliest youth to view him and his ilk as the victims rather than the violent monsters they truly are. I confess I never knew how deeply he has sunk his claws into her, but I see it now and it sickens me. She is putting herself in the gravest danger. The political and social consequences are, as I see them, potentially vast and yet she appears blind. I doubt though that she is blind – I respect her abilities too much – but I believe that she has been manipulated into overcoming them or into believing that she must put herself at risk regardless. She cannot see that if these people cared for her as we, her family, do, then they would never ask such a thing of her._

_The first and most pressing concern as I see it (though as I have said, I am writing to your for your advice and your own view on the matter) is that in aligning herself with the werewolves' cause she will be accused of going Dark. With the recent revelation regarding the previous owner of her wand, this outcome has increased in plausibility. It may be that people begin to think she is promoting Dark creatures and allowing them to spread their influence. For her own sake, I hope this is what they believe. It would be far better for Maia to be feared, than to become an object of attack. _

_For, with the growing rise of the Dark, she is placing herself in the danger of being viewed as a champion of the Light with this new involvement with a liberal cause. Given the history of her House, of our House if I may be so bold, she should not use all her twigs for just one broom. We can never trust __them__ to save her; they hate the rest of our House too greatly. Moreover, the enemies from our own camp which she would make were she to change sides is terrifying to comprehend!_

_I do not know how I should proceed or how I should protect her, Aunt. I blame the company who are clearly trying to use her for their own ends, to promote their own causes. I believe they seek to use her name, her gold and her influence to champion their perfidious cause because they know they have no hope – no __right__ – to success without help from the highest places. Their cause is wrong and sickens me. Werewolves are a danger. We must never forget that. How Maia has forgotten that given she was almost bitten a few short months ago is beyond my comprehension. Chiefly I blame the aforementioned werewolf Lupin. While we both know the charges against him are fabricated, he is still and always will be an animal and a scourge. He has known Maia since her infancy and has clearly twisted her understanding of his kind. Next to Lupin I blame the muggleborns, Hermione Granger and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Granger has long been known throughout Hogwarts as an upstart radical with no respect for magic or magical traditions. She believes the muggles and the muggleworld superior to our own kind. She is clearly trying to bring Maia round to this way of thinking. In this she is aided and abetted by Finch-Fletchley. Finch-Fletchley makes a good show of being a gentlemen. I have seen that he can act and dress and talk the part with my own eyes at our own table. But he has only the form and none of the substance. I blame him for Maia's petrification in our second year. He has a callous disregard for her welfare, a trait which no true noble wizard would ever possess. _

_Lastly, I blame the Muggle Studies teacher, Charity Burbage. She has been 'tutoring' Maia separately to the rest of her class since the very start of third year. It is well known to both of us how dedicated Maia is to her studies, and how hard she strives to be a credit to you and the House of Black. This __is__ to her credit. Yet Burbage has snatched upon this and enforced extra studies upon Maia, under the veiled insult that as a pureblood she cannot understand the muggle culture. I need not tell you how patently ridiculous that is, and the double standards it betrays. However, Maia took up these studies and her assigned reading material, with her responses carefully monitored and controlled by Burbage, has wrought a noticeable change on her attitudes. _

_I have no desire in all of this to present my honoured and beloved cousin as weak-willed. She is the opposite – she is strong. She is a Black. However, I believed that all these circumstances have conspired against her and lead her into danger. I lay the blame at my own door, for not having seen this and sought you out sooner. I beg your pardon for this, most sincerely. You know me too well to doubt my sincerity in this matter, Aunt._

_I await your reply with the greatest urgency and dutiful respect._

_Yours in blood,_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy. _

Cassiopeia put down the letter with something akin to a strangled cry.

Sirius looked up from his copy of the _Prophet_, quickly tossing it aside. He was across the room in seconds, leaning down over Cassiopeia's arm chair. "What is the matter? Should I fetch Caroline from the WE, WF... WI, oh, that damn thing with the old women?"

Slowly, with a halting breath, Cassiopeia shook her head.

"Then what is it? Is it Maia? Prongslet? What in Godric's name is going on? Tell me!"

Sirius felt his hands shake. Over the last few months, he had changed greatly. His face and body had filled out again, giving him the look of a stern and powerful wizard. One who had fought and won, on many occasions. Now he was ready to reach for his wand, and not with recklessness, or blind rage, but cold determination. He caught sight of the letter in Cassiopeia's hand, and reached forward to snatch it. "Show me!"

Cassiopeia pulled it away from his grasp, but looked up, "Cousin Draco has written, informing me of his concerns regarding Maia." With her eyes closed with resignation, she passed him the letter, "I doubt you will see it as I do, but you must see the danger she is placing herself in. We both know that the Dark is rising, and that the Dark Lord will return. We have found no more Horcruxes and no way to save Cousin Harry. We have made no progress, yet every day he must be growing stronger. If she is running around like a Hufflepuff crying love and peace for all then Draco is right, our former allies will turn where before they could be trusted to sit back and wait and see if she would come to then, as all would expect given her history, given her wand. And we cannot trust the Light to protect her. They are not our true allies. We can only trust ourselves."

Sirius snorted and handed the letter back when he reached the end of the parchment, "A pretty speech, by you and him, but you're right. I don't see it like that."

"Aren't you worried?"

"I'm worried that Malfoy's boy has had his held filled with Dark nonsense like the rest of the children of this family, and I'm worried that Maia has been exposed to that and I'm worried how that will affect her. I'm not worried that she has chosen to try and help Remus. I'm proud of her. And I expect Caroline will feel the same."

Cassiopeia sneered, "And what of this Finch-Fletchley, sniffing around your only daughter like some mongrel? Doesn't _that_ concern you?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, "If you mean to imply that my daughter would fail to hex an unsuitable suitor into next week then you clearly don't know her at all. She wouldn't link herself to any wizard without money, connections and good breeding. I'm sure you taught her that early on, and those messages clearly got through even if some of the others did not. Besides, I know he's already visited here and he certainly wouldn't cross your doorstep if he wasn't respectable, even if he is a muggleborn."

"And Granger! And Burbage!" she said, standing, "What about them? How is them filling her head with _their_ opinions any better than me filling it with _my_ supposedly Dark views? Answer me that!"

Sirius walked back across the room and fell back in his chair, shaking his head. "Sit down, Aunt Cassiopeia. I am the Head of this House and I am starting to read the subtext of this conversation: that you think I do not understand and I do not care. I understand where Master Malfoy is coming from. I understand that this could be dangerous. But Maia and her friends are right and I will not stop them. This business with Burbage is concerning, but I will handle it. You aren't going to go and storm into Hogwarts demanding her head, or blow up the gates again."

Cassiopeia ignored him and continued to pace the floor. "I'll do as I please. Maia's as much mine as she is yours. And perhaps you would like to know the extent of that hag's influence? I have known that Maia was reading muggle texts, did you not think that I monitored her accounts? I have seen the receipts and I have read every single one of those texts myself, just to be safe. I am not so foolish as to deny her in her pursuit of knowledge. However, it was one thing for Maia to seek to improve herself, and quite another for her to be moulded by Burbage. What do you make of Draco's claim that Burbage pushes her to one conclusion over the other?"

Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "I know and those lessons will end forthwith. I will give you that. However, I will not allow you to stop Maia and her friends from championing the werewolves. I will speak to her and ascertain her own views and motivations and we will proceed from there. _I_ am her father."

Cassiopeia turned to him, arching her neck and curling her lip. "My, haven't you grown these past months? Don't you look regal in your new robes, secure with your careful choice of words, fully restored and even elevated to Headship? But don't delude yourself. You are not her father and you never will be: that title belongs to Marius. She may give you her loyalty as her Head of House, but she will never love you like she loved him, and she will never love you as she loves me."

And with that Cassiopeia turned, closing the door behind her, and leaving the room in absolute, deathly silence.

...

Sirius sat at his desk, his quill in hand. His hands which had only just stopped shaking. He was still recovering, and she had cut open every wound she could.

But he wouldn't let it change him back. He was trying, he was fixing. He would be a father to Maia, a good father. He would be a good Head of House, for her if he could not bring himself to care for his own sake. She cared, and so he would care too.

And that was what mattered the most.

And Cassiopeia could go to hell.

He was sure there were plenty down there saving her a seat already.

Exhaling a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, he dipped the quill into the dark ink and began to write.

_To a dear Daughter of my House,_

_I would first like to thank you for your diligent correspondence since you have returned to Hogwarts. I am pleased to remain informed of your detailed and meticulous study schedule, which I am sure will be rewarded with suitable marks. _

_However, another missive regarding your welfare recently reached Black Rose House and I am obliged to write and express my concern._

_Firstly, though, let me express my pride and my admiration. I am so very pleased to hear that you are taking a stand for your beliefs, that you are brave enough to raise your voice against the crowd._

_Yet I would like to ascertain that these are your own views. The missive reported that you were being influenced by outside forces, namely Remus Lupin, Hermione Granger, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Charity Burbage. I shall begin with the first three. If they are your motivations for doing this, for starting and joining a Noble Society, then do not let them influence you or change your views. If they convinced you, then so be it, but do not allow yourself to be swayed. And remember there is a difference between the two. The writer of the message asked for advice, because he believed that your Aunt Cassiopeia (to whom the letter was addressed) would steer him, and you, true. I cannot pretend to have truly known you for a long time, but I should like to think that in the time I have had I have come to know you well. You will steer __yourself__ true. You do not need anyone, myself included, to do it for you. Listen to your own head and your own heart and act upon that. _

_If you do then decide to persist with this Noble Society, then I charge you to be a voice of caution and reason among its members. I do not wish to dissuade or dishearten you, but these are dangerous times. A time may come when you will be called to account for what you are doing, so make sure you have an excuse or an escape plan. These are difficult words for me to write. When I was your age (and many years after) I would have charged into battle believing that I would win simply because my cause was just. Beliefs such as those cost me some of the best years of my life – and not my youth, but rather, the years I should have spent with you. _

_You know the politics of our world. I know that you are more than capable of playing the game. Make sure nobody plays it dangerously, or leads you into danger. For all my support, I would rather see you fail and safe than triumphant and hurt. I would sooner see you abandon Moony to save your own skin, than sacrifice it at his alter. He would say the same in a heartbeat. He would never see you hurt when it was in his power to prevent it._

_Lastly, I turn to the case of Charity Burbage. Your so-called 'tutorials' with her are to end forthwith. Show her this letter if you must. I do not know the extent of Dumbledore's involvement or knowledge, but I shall also be informing him of my displeasure. As I have said before, you can be your own conscience. You can make your own conscience. It is wholly wrong of her to try and interfere. Perhaps I am mistaken, and feel free to inform me of your own views of the matter. However, until I am convinced they are in your best interests and are taking place for your benefit rather than your supposed 'betterment' then they shall stop. I command this as the Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black._

_Please reply to this letter with all due haste, for we are all concerned for you._

_Yours in blood,_

_Sirius Orion Black, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black._

He put down his pen and leant back in his chair, pushing his long hair, grey in places, out of his face. The ring on his finger caught the sunlight, reflecting dancing light.

"Cassiopeia said that you were writing to Maia."

He stood up from his chair and turned at the sound of Caroline's voice from the doorway. "Yes, would you like to read it?"

She nodded, "If you would be so kind... I..."

He handed it over, "Yes, I know, this arrangement we have..."

"Arrangement? I thought we were simply struggling through blindly?"

"But we're trying."

She inclined her head as she sat down, "And that is what counts."

Sirius sat back down and smiled. He and Caroline had spoken at length about his... recovery. They had struck up a friendship, though it was hard to dislike Caroline. He owed her, of course. But it was more than that; she had been a force for good, snobbery as well, but also good in Maia's life. He was also shrewd enough to recognise that Caroline was offering him friendship and amiability in the first instance, but in the second, she would fight tooth and nail to keep Maia for herself. The former was in all of their best interests...

Caroline coughed and brought him back to the present, "I agree with you, especially about Charity Burbage. What do we know of her?"

"She was a few years above me in school – a Ravenclaw, a muggleborn... bullied I believe. I expect that she and young Hermione Granger have a great deal in common."

"Hermione Granger is a sweet child who wouldn't take it upon herself to 'save' people by moulding them to her own view."

Sirius snorted, "Give her twenty... thirty years to get fed up with the unchanging status quo and then we'll see."

Caroline sighed, "A true point. But still... Maia does not need saving."

Sirius leant back in his chair, "I think the same, but I did not always think so. When I heard her call Hermione a... a you-know-what, I thought she needed saving as well. And let's not forget her rather limited experience with muggles beyond yourself..."

Caroline stood up abruptly, "Send the God-forsaken letter Sirius, and hold your tongue."

He took the letter from her, dribbled the black wax over the fold and pressed the seal in place.

_Toujours Pur_.

...


	31. The Yellow Belly

**I do not own Harry Potter**

_**Chapter Thirty – The Yellow Belly**_

Carefully, Maia folded the letter and placed it back in her satchel. She had received it at breakfast, but had only now, at the end of the day, had the time to give it the attention it deserved.

It provided plenty of food for thought.

In a way, she was pleased to have received the letter. She was pleased that she was not about to be disowned for her actions, but had the carefully considered support of her Head of House. She was also pleased that her Head of House saw her as capable of acting as a voice of reason and maturity among her peers, and saw her as capable of making her own moves upon the metaphorical chessboard of politics and blood that was her life, and the lives of all of her circle.

It was disconcerting, however, to know that she did not have the support of Aunt Cassiopeia, who she had always sought to emulate from her opinions to her very gestures, and that the politics of her House had changed so drastically that her Aunt was no longer its Head.

It also concerned her – wounded her, in fact – to think that Draco had gone behind her back to contact her House and inform them of his worries, rather than speaking to her directly. Her temper urged her to fly off the wall with rage, though she also knew this was her Black blood talking, and that the rules of the House of Black stated that she only lose her temper to control others, not because she could not control herself. And she loved Draco. Part of her knew, deep down, that he had only done it because he cared. But she was still horribly hurt, horribly angry.

What troubled her more were her own uneasy feelings regarding whether she was doing the right thing, and whether she was capable of doing the right thing. She had enjoyed her lessons with Professor Burbage, and admired the woman for her intellect. She had enjoyed their debates, and she had always freely spoken her own mind. Being raised as a Black, she was not naturally inclined to doubt herself.

But that was exactly what she as doing now.

Had Professor Burbage only tutored her because she thought she was innately bad, and in need of help? And was her affection for Professor Burbage really based upon a lie? And had she failed so much in her cultivation of herself as a Black and a Slytherin that she had allowed herself to be manipulated?

Maia was not proud of some of the opinions she had held, regarding werewolves in particular, or opinions held by others to which she had freely turned a blind eye and thus tacitly supported, namely the prejudice against muggles and muggleborns. But she had thought that she was starting anew, or at least improving in her ability to demonstrate a higher moral code to which the rest of Slytherin would eventually subscribe because that was where the House of Black was leading them. Was she then naive or was she arrogant? Was she actually no better than she had been before? Would the Slytherins not follow... never follow? She had thought it would take time, generations maybe, but now she saw that they did not have the luxury of time. The Dark Lord was returning and that should be at the foremost of her thoughts. And that brought out a side of her she had previously embraced, which had led her to call Hermione a mudblood, and had led to her feud with Parkinson, and that was her need to self-preservation. If the Dark Lord was returning, should she not abandon the Light? They would not have her back when it came to a fight. She could not trust them like she could trust her mother, her aunt or Draco. If she could not trust them to keep her safe, why should she help them? Her name and her blood would keep her safe. She should let them fight it out between themselves. Her family had paid high enough a price during the last war.

But as she had said to Hermione, she didn't know if she had it in her to be that cold anymore. She had to ability, certainly. She was born to be cold. But she had thought she had lost the will? Had she, though? Had she really?

The sudden cracking sound of a cold, frozen twig breaking in two made her look up suddenly. Hermione stepped out from behind one of the bushes, "I saw you leave the Great Hall early and thought I would see if you were alright." She said.

Maia nodded, "Thank you. I am quite well."

"Are you sure?"

"When am I ever unsure?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down next to Maia, "I am quite certain that you are as unsure as the rest of us the vast majority of the time, you simply choose not to show it."

Maia riled inwardly at Hermione's insightfulness. "That's beside the point. I've answered your question. Why are you still here?"

"Because I'm as entitled to seek out your company as you are mine."

"Then for Salazar's sake tell me what you want and go away again, I'm busy."

"I want to know what you haven't worn your badge, not even once."

"Really Hermione, that's what you want to know?"

"That's exactly what I want to know."

Maia dug her fingers into the ground forcefully as she leant back, tensing the stressed and angry muscles. "Very well, I have been debating my reasons for wearing them and have yet to decide if they are sufficient for carrying out such a divisive action."

"I thought you were never unsure?" said Hermione with a wry smile.

Maia ignored the comment entirely and continued, "I will one day have a seat in the Wizengamot. I would hate for my actions at school to catch up with me in an inappropriate moment. Of more immediate concern is the resurgence of the Death Eaters. I should hate to end up on their list of targets, when I am quite sure that I am in a position to avoid such a fate if I keep my hands clean."

"We've discussed this before, Maia, you burned your bridges, your whole House burned their bridges, with Dark when they took in Harry."

"No, I said that I didn't want to join with the Dark, but..." Her voice trailed away and she sighed, as if she didn't know how to explain herself anymore. "Like I said then, we are well placed to lie our way out of any scrape."

Hermione pursed her lips, "I understand that you're afraid-"

"-I am not afraid. I am a-"

Hermione waved her hand dismissively, "A Daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, yes, I know, I've heard it all before. And I still don't care. The fact of the matter is that you're scared, you're scared to take a stand. Well what does that say about you? You say that we should help Professor Lupin, but then you don't have the guts to follow through? You're afraid of the Death Eaters, fair enough, I'm scared too, but I'm not going to let them win before the fight has even started. I'm not going to give up without a fight. They're wrong and we're right."

"Is it worth dying for, Hermione? Have you thought about that? Actually thought about it? Not in an abstract, noble, Gryffindor manner where you sacrifice yourself for a cause greater for yourself, but where Death Eaters drag you from your bed, torture you, torture and kill your family before you, and then finish you off last?"

Maia had stood up and started pacing during this, her fists clenched. When she finished and came to a sudden halt, she turned to look down at her white-faced friend. "Hermione... I'm sorry-"

Hermione shook her head fiercely, "No... No, you're right. But that doesn't change the fact of the matter. They're wrong, I'm right, and they will have to kill me before they shut me up. Whatever happens, I couldn't live with myself if I did anything less than what I know is right."

Maia through her hands in the air, "Don't be so flippant! You don't know when this will catch up with you, you have no _idea_ how soon this might catch up with you. It's all well and good dying for a cause, but don't you have anything to live for?" As she spoke, she thought of Remus shut away in Grimmauld Place, or her unknown mother dying well before her time, of Sirius losing all those years of his life, of Aunt Cassiopeia's hidden, haunted looks... This was all happening too soon and too fast. Her future was supposed to be gilded and golden. Her future was supposed to be filled with dances and balls, with power, with the world bending over backwards in front of her... None of this was supposed to be happening...

Hermione pushed herself to her feet, "I have plenty to live for, Maia Black, but sometimes I wonder if you live for anything beyond yourself!"

Maia watched Hermione turn on her heel and storm away, before she sunk back to the floor and buried her head in her hands.

Nothing was supposed to be happening this way.

This wasn't the life she had been promised.

...

It was dark and nearing curfew by the time she made her way back to the castle. Not only had she now argued with Hermione, and twisted her stomach into knots with worry, she also had to contend with the fact that she was falling behind with her study schedule. As much as she studied – after dinner, every single night – she was quite sure she would never get back her first year O in Transfiguration or get beyond an A in Arithmacey. There was only so much she could disappoint her Aunt, only so much disappointment she could bring herself to inflict.

"What are you still doing out, Miss. Black?"

Maia turned to see Cedric Diggory walking down the corridor towards her, his prefect's badge glinting in the candlelight.

"I was returning to the Common Room after studying in the library, Master. Diggory." She answered, lying easily.

He grinned, "You always were a studious one, weren't you? Always the last to leave for lunch and the first one to return to the library, from what I recall."

"I wished to please and honour my Aunts."

Cedric shrugged, "Yes, well, I also remember the pranks you pulled on them, so you were hardly all sweetness and light and filial duty, were you?"

"If you're quite done reminiscing, Master. Diggory, I wish to return to my Common Room before curfew."

Cedric nodded, looking mildly disappointed. "I didn't mean to keep you, Miss. Black." He said, with a bow, "Would you like me to escort you back?"

She let out a single, derisive laugh before turning quickly and flouncing away. She made it halfway down the corridor when she came to an abrupt halt. Something was tugging in her gut, something urgent. She turned and ran back down the way she had come, "Master. Diggory!" she called, "Master. Diggory?"

Cedric appeared back round the corner, frowning as he saw her. "Is everything alright?"

She stopped, "I... I..."

He started walking back, "Are you alright?"

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry." She said quickly, "I was rude to you, just now, and I apologise. And I ought to apologise to spellotaping you to the chandelier all those years ago. It was uncalled for." She fought the urge to humiliate herself further by fidgeting. She was humiliating herself though, lowering herself, degrading herself...

Cedric laughed, genuinely, "You're an odd one, Miss. Black. But thank you, though I don't mind. Anyone can see you're bothered by something, and you certainly don't have to apologise for the spellotape. You were justifiably upset with my family then."

She bit her lip, "Thank you... that's very... understanding."

Cedric shook his head, "Is that everything? Because if it is, you really ought to head back to the Common Room, it's late..."

Maia nodded, "Yes, it is, of course..." As she turned to leave, she saw a second flash of metal on his chest. "You joined the N. S. P. W. W. R?"

He looked down at the badge, "If Professor Lupin was a werewolf, then they can't be all bad, can they? I never met a more decent chap. And if _you're_ willing to overlook his accidental transformation and attack, then who am I to judge?"

"So you don't think that he's a Death Eater?"

"My father was an Auror during the first war. He remembered Professor Lupin and said he's no more a Death Eater than you or I."

"You do know whose wand I'm using?"

"Yes, but I also know which witch you really are. You're Maia Black, not Bellatrix Lestrange."

She frowned, "How can you be so... so unrelentingly good-natured?"

"Because the world's a good place if you give it half a chance. At least that's how I see it. You should give it a try sometime, now you really ought to be-"

"I know, I know. And goodnight."

"Goodnight, Miss Black."

...

Maia paused before the door of the Common Room. She glanced down at the badge glinting on her chest.

She was not going to die for them.

But speak for them?

Stand up for them?

Destroy those in her way? Because she was a Black and when it came down to it, she _would_ win, because she would make sure of it?

That much she could do.

They would never catch her.

Her golden life might be slipping through her fingers like leprechaun's gold, but she, she was still golden.

Most of the students looked up and inclined their heads as she entered and passed by. She still had their respect. She saw their frowns though, when they noticed her badge.

She sat down in her armchair, opposite Draco. He bit his lip, but inclined his head all the same, "Good evening, sister."

"Good evening, brother."

Tracey sat up stiffly, closing her magazine carefully. "That's an interesting accessory, Maia." She said, her voice very cold.

Daphne looked up from filing her nails and closed her eyes momentarily, as if asking the Gods to give her strength.

"Perhaps it is." Answered Maia, "I think it looks well though."

"I think it suits you, it goes with your personality. Un-thinking, disloyal, inconsiderate-"

Maia's eyes blazed, "You dare to take that tone with me?"

"Arrogant." Added Tracey, with studied lightness.

Pansy Parkison turned away from Milicent and their game of Gobstones, "Maia, can't we see we're just looking out for you? Hermione Granger's a filthy little mudblood. We don't know-"

Maia stood up quickly and drew her wand, "You shut _your_ filthy mouth, Parkinson." Her hand shook then, and it wasn't with rage. She'd outed herself, her politics, before the whole Common Room. They were watching now, and she had no way to claw it back... "You have no right to question my acquaintance, you ought to be busy thanking your lucky stars you're admitted into it, Salazar knows why!" She sneered and turned back to Tracey, trying to school her face, "Tracey-"

Tracey stood up and cut her off, "Don't bother, Maia. You've chosen your friends. Just watch your back. They won't watch it like we did."

When she turned to leave, Daphne stood and followed as well.

"See, Maia, she's tearing us apart, that Granger. She's no-"

As Maia turned back towards Parkinson, aware the Common Room seemed eerily, deathly quiet, Draco leant forwards in his arm chair, his voice urgent, "Please, ladies, be quiet. You're making a spectacle of yourselves."

And with that, Maia felt the anger against him she'd been trying to keep away flare up. "A spectacle of myself, brother? A spectacle? I might as well ask what spectacle you make of yourself!"

"Maia..." his said, his tone itself a warning.

"No, I shall. I _shall_ ask it. What sort of spectacle are _you_ making of _yourself_? If Tracey says that I am disloyal, what are you? What cousin, what _brother_, are you to me if you will not stand by me-"

"-Maia, I only sought to counsel-"

"-what sort of brother are you if you go behind my back to clutch at our aunt's skirts like a boy – a boy, not a man, not a wizard – because he has not got his own way? And how can I trust a _boy_ such as that? Will such a boy not prove disloyal in the end? Is disloyalty not in your blood? Is your belly as yellow as your father's? Are you a traitor, a coward, a fool like your father?" her voice rose with each sentence. She wasn't crying, but she was fighting tears back by the end. Though she wanted to be sick even more than she wanted to cry.

_Had she not once told Draco that he could doubt her blood and her politics and everything else, but that he never had to doubt her loyalty to, her affection for, him? Did he not feel the same? Did he no longer feel the same? And what of that image, that image she had always had, of them standing side by side through life? Of them sitting side by side at the fireplace twenty, fifty, a hundred years from now? The image where his hair receded and greyed, and where she grew sharper and more hawk-like year on year until she and Aunt Cassiopeia were interchangeable? Had she lost that? Had that life gone? Was Draco gone? Or was he going? Could she keep him? Could she?..._

The whole Common Room was silent. And the silence hung thickly in the air.

Until there was a small cough, and Mercurius Avery leant casually over the back of Tracey's now abandoned sofa. A lock of his dark hair fell forward over his forehead, and he crossed his arms, relaxed, "If Lucius Malfoy is a traitor, may I ask to whom?"

Maia and Draco turned towards him in unison.

The silence remained.

He smiled, his sharp, white teeth flashing in the dark night of the room.

"My apologies. Do you need me to clarify? I mean, to which side is he a traitor? For you all seem to be opposites now."

...

**A/N - Hi Guys, quick update, but I'm in a good mood and realised that I hadn't left you with a cliff-hanger for a while. See you in a week! : ) **


	32. Forked Tongues

**I do not own Harry Potter**

**Trigger Warning: Blood purism and a clear depiction of violence. Please skip over this if you don't want to read such a thing.**

_**Chapter Thirty One – Forked Tongues**_

_Mercurius smiled, his sharp, white teeth flashing in the dark night of the room._

"_My apologies. Do you need me to clarify? I mean, to which side is he a traitor? For you all seem to be opposites now."_

Silence.

Absolute, unrelenting, deathly, _deathly_ silence.

Nobody breathed.

Not one, single person.

Who could breathe?

Suddenly, it broke, and Maia gasped. For shock or fear or horror, she didn't know. All she knew was that the throbbing in her ears was fading away, and she could breathe anew.

And she was a Daughter of the House of Black.

She was the Heir of Cassiopeia Black.

She knew no panic.

Knew no fear.

She could do this.

Would do this.

Had to do this.

Because nobody else would do this.

Because Draco was silent. He did not have her back. He did not even have his own.

He was still silent.

"Perhaps I must ask you to clarify further, Master. Avery. I am afraid that I do not quite comprehend your question?"

He smirked and inclined his head, "Naturally, your fraternisation with the mudbloods will have influenced your comprehension. Filth begets filth after all, and rot spreads through. I mean to ask, to be blunt, which side Mr. Malfoy has betrayed?"

Maia inclined her head, regally, her face conveying no other emotion. Her gaze, deliberately, went to the wand still resting in her hand. She held it carefully. She had thought her hands would be shaking. They did not betray her, and she was glad. Her heart beat heavily though, and her stomach churned.

But she was a Black.

And she did not know fear.

"And yet I remain confused. For you said that 'we' are on opposite sides. I do not know to whom this 'we' could possibly refer. I am of the House of Black. Uncle Lucius is of the House of Malfoy. We are one in all things. We cannot be divided, and so we cannot be on opposite sides."

"You said Mr. Malfoy was a traitor."

"Mr. Malfoy is a Slytherin. As are you, and so am I. We are all traitors to someone. Yet I still do not know who this _we_ is, Master. Avery? Surely you cannot mean to imply that _we_ are on opposing sides. As I have said before, we are both Slytherins. We all stand as one." She paused and smiled, laughing lightly. "When it counts, of course."

Mercurius dipped his head, "Of course. But of course, there is also a world beyond Hogwarts. A world beyond Slytherin. Who knows what treachery lies there?"

"Who indeed?" Said a voice at Maia's shoulder, and she turned to see Draco standing at her side. "But surely you do not mean to imply that the House of Avery knows something _beyond_ that which is known to the Houses of Black and Malfoy. If you do, you presume too much."

"I presume nothing." Answered Avery coolly, "I merely observe that there is a world beyond Slytherin and that treachery lies there."

"But the House of Black knows nothing of treachery in the world beyond Slytherin, in the world that counts." Again, Maia turned her gaze to her wand as she spoke. Mercurius' eyes followed her own, as did the rest of Slytherin. She lifted the wand, as if to inspect it. "In fact, I would go so far as to say that, for a House of Slytherins, the House of Black knows only loyalty. You know, _Mercurius_, who used this wand before me. You know where its last owner now stands, and what she stands there for. Surely you do not mean to question my loyalty to _other_ causes?"

She glared at him. He did not meet her look. His own eyes could not be torn from the wand.

Maia did not have to turn to know that Draco was smirking.

Mercurius swallowed, "You may both have forked tongues, and you may lie like true Slytherins, but one of you must be a traitor, and I would wager you both are. And I do not want to think of the actions of Mr. Malfoy, although I am sure we shall _all _think of them now after tonight. But if one of you has a yellow belly, as you say, and then other surely is a blood traitor. You do not mean to tell me, _Maia_, that you talk of liberating the werewolves, of promoting the like of Finch-Fletchley and Granger, for any reason other than your own treachery, to your blood, to your House-"

"-never question my loyalty to my House. I will not take kindly to it. And I do not take kindly to your presumption either. You presume to not only question my House, my loyalty, but to call me by my _given_ name-"

"-Then do you prefer the _muggle_ name of _Anna_-"

"-you dare too-"

"-Dare? Oh I dare greatly! I _dare_ to say that I do not know how you bear it. I _dare_ to say that I do not know which is worse, to say that one is the spawn of a Squib and a muggle or the brat of two blood traitors, who ought to _both_ be dea-"

Draco made a move to grab Maia's arm_, _butshe had already wrenched it away from his grip. She crossed the floor in two paces, with her eyes blazing, her hair falling from its bun, her wand humming in her grip, her lips curled back in a snarl.

"I've told you before, _Mercurius_, who last used this wand. And I've told you before that you presume too much." She'd pushed the wand into the base of his throat, before he'd had the chance to even move. He made chocking noises, as if the wand were burning him. "You _will not_ presume to question me again. You should know that I am a Black. You should know that I have a plan. And you should know that we _never _lose. Have I made myself clear?"

He nodded, his eyes watering.

"I want to hear it, you piece of filth. You are a disappointment to your blood. And I want to hear you say it."

"I- I understand. You're clear... You've made yourself clear."

"_You haven't said everything I want to hear."_ She spat.

He swallowed nervously, "I- I- am a, a disappoint-appointment, to my... to my blood."

"That's better." She said, pulling the wand back sharply. Mercurius doubled over, clutching his throat which had an angry red mark – the beginning of a bruise – from Maia's forceful lunge. He fell to the floor on his knees.

"Is there anyone else here who wants to question my House? I suggest you step forwards now."

Again there was silence.

And nobody moved.

"Good. Then I am leaving, for I am disgusted by the _nigh-unbelievable inferiority _which surrounds me."

She left.

And behind her there was silence.

...

**A/N - I'm not sure if this is how you wanted it to play out, or expected it to play out. I'm actually really very nervous about this chapter, and am still not sure if it was the right way to write it. I just couldn't see Maia keeping her temper though, or not trying to leave as much room for manoeuvre as possible, for as long as possible. But I do not want to imply in this that I endorse Maia's actions or attitudes. Feedback and reviews would be really appreciated! **

**Also, thank you to Muggle Creator for leaving the 200****th**** review (although I appreciated all the rest of them as well!)**


	33. Doubt

**I do not own Harry Potter**

_**Chapter Thirty Two – Doubt**_

As soon as Maia was out of sight from the Common Room she turned and slumped with her back against the wall. She pressed her hand over her throat and heart – wand still in hand – as her heart thumped erratically and she gasped for breath. She couldn't breathe.

She gasped.

She couldn't believe that that had happened.

She glanced down at the wand in her hand and dropped it. It clattered as it hit the floor. She couldn't believe it had all happened. It was as though it had all happened to someone else. She couldn't believe it was her. Was that her? Was that really her?

It was as though she'd blacked out with blind rage, and someone else had taken over.

But wasn't that her?

Wasn't she cold?

Wasn't she ruthless?

Wasn't she unrelenting?

Wasn't she a Black?

But as soon, as soon as the words 'Squib spawn' had left his mouth, she had been gone.

She'd lost it.

Completely lost it.

Thank Salazar it had all paid off.

Had it?

Did she really just use the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange as a threat? Had she really just done everything she could to imply she was the _heir_ to Bellatrix Lestrange? Sweet Salazar, what sort of person did that? Sweet Salazar, what sort of person...

She sunk down onto the floor and snatched up the wand, not feeling right about it lying there, however else she may feel, however confused she might otherwise feel.

She breathed deeply.

"Are you alright?"

She looked up.

"Sister, are you alright?"

She stood then, and covered the distance between then, throwing her arms around him fiercely. Draco held her against him, stroking her hair, as she cried.

...

The Common Room was still silent. Recovering first, Queenie Greengrass stepped forwards and healed the wound at Mercurius' throat. Most of the younger years had already been sent to bed long ago, so close was curfew when all this took place, but those that were left were pale-faced.

Mercurius breathed deeply and steadily, "I did _not_ predict that."

Marcus Flint nodded slowly, "I don't think anyone predicted that."

"I mean... I knew she was a Black, I knew there was a temper."

"Father used to tell me stories about Bellatrix Black at school... They were... She was just like that."

Teddy Nott scoffed, "I'll wager my father knew as much of Bellatrix Black as your's did. More in fact, Flint. _Your_ family never made the Inner Circle, did it?"

"Boasting now?" Flint spat back quickly, "I thought you and your brother had gone soft on us? Is that changing now you can see which way the auguries are crying then?"

"I can see exactly which way they're crying, and like I said, far more than you or your father can claim to. But I'll say this, if I'll say nothing else. You're fools to mess with the House of Black, and fools to pretend to dance to the Dark Lord's tune when you don't even know the rhythm."

He turned to leave, when Flint called after him, "We'll all be dancing to one of two tunes soon enough, Nott. Don't forget it. We won't. And we won't forget this."

Nott didn't turn back, didn't respond. Adrian Pucey stood to follow him, though turned towards Flint before he left. "Perhaps you're right. But perhaps you ought to bear in mind that hell's a hot place to spend an eternity."

Queenie Greengrass said nothing.

...

"Sush... Sush, Maia, shush."

She shook her head and pulled away, pushing the tears away from her eyes. "I should have known you would have my back in the end."

Draco leant back against the wall, tilting back his head, "Whatever happens, Maia, I'll have your back. We're going to be pushed and pulled one way or another. Maybe we'll even be dragged there, kicking and screaming. I don't think we can pretend to be in control anymore, can we? But I'll always have your back. No matter what."

Maia nodded and stood next to him. "Remember earlier, when you said you wished we were still in short trousers and pinafores and being tutored from home? I wish for that too. And I wish for the dreams I used to have back then, when I thought our lives were charmed. I never thought our lives would be like this. We were going to be the Black and the Malfoy Heirs and the world was going to dance to _our_ tune. We would set our rules. I never saw anyone else coming in and ruining that picture."

"Neither did I."

"And I spoke to Cedric Diggory earlier, and I've spoken to Hermione Granger so many times, and every day a part of me... a part of me has wanted different things for my life. Or at least, to do different things with my life. I always thought... I always thought I would have the power to do things. But before, well, I only imagined playing with it... Now, well, recently at least, I've wanted to do good things. Be good..."

"You _are_ good, Maia. You never had to try and change."

"I'm not trying, well... I am, but not exactly. Rather... I feel like I'm changing before I've realised and then I'm left playing catch-up with myself."

"You never had to change either. You'll never have to change. You're perfect as you are."

Maia laughed, once and derisively. "No I'm not. I'm far from perfect, and so are you. Can either of us claim to have a truly coherent moral compass?"

"We don't need them. We know what we have to do, and we do it."

"Damn the consequences?"

Draco turned towards her quickly, "Yes, damn the consequences!"

She sighed, "I love you, Draco Malfoy. You are the best brother I could ever have asked for. I'm not sure if I'll ever give up on thinking I can rule the world, or rather, that the world ought to obey my will. But whatever happens, I swear to you, I will always love you as my brother, and I will always be loyal and true to you."

"I swear it too."

Maia stepped back, half-turning away before turning back again. She pushed a hand back through her hair, "Draco, does it ever scare you how many times we have to swear this? How many times we're pushed into this conversation? Because every time we have it, I'm a little more fearful. And every time they, it, something, pushes us to it, I think that they would just as easily tear us apart. Do you never worry that might happen?"

Draco stood in front of her, and brought both hands down on her shoulders.

"_Never. Absolutely never."_

...


	34. Time Changes All Things

**I do not own Harry Potter**

_**Chapter Thirty Three – Time Changes All Things**_

Time may change all things, but it doesn't heal all wounds.

And words, once spoken, cannot be recalled.

The Slytherin Common Room, once a place of sanctuary and refuge, became tense that night. It remained tense thereafter. There had been no call to arms. No standard had been raised. No leaders had been appointed. But the battle lines were drawing themselves of their own accord regardless.

Each evening, the emerging factions sat apart, with their own sets beside the fireside.

And in all of this, nobody knew what to make of the Houses of Black and Malfoy. Perhaps, for their own good, they had become an unknown quantity.

The Slytherin trio of princesses in waiting were civil. They were too well bred and too snobbish to be anything but. But they were no longer one and the same. And they did not know if they were still even on the same sides. And they did not dare to ask.

Maia's lessons with Charity Burbage had come to an abrupt halt. Burbage had protested, but Maia had simply held firm. She said that she wanted them to end. Burbage had been sad, and Maia missed the debates.

And yet a part of her was glad. Rejoicing, even.

She could pirouette in the Common Room now, along the battle line. She knew she had shown her hand too many times already. In small ways and big ways. They doubted her, they double-guessed her, and they all knew what hand she'd call in the end. She was sure of that. But she just had to keep the doubting going. And she could do that. She was a Black, of course she could do that. Because for as long as they had that small seed of doubt, she was that little bit safer, and kept her hold on the power she held. The power she had always thought would never be truly challenged.

Until it now it was, of course.

Another part of her was sick at her own actions. And part of her was sickened to know she had another part who would bring a wizard to his knees and make him choke. She told herself that that was who she was, and that that was what it meant to be a Black. To fight tooth and nail for those they loved and for their House. But she knew that, that night, she had only been fighting for herself. And she wasn't proud.

So, was she able, like Diggory had told her to, to look at the world and see a good place?

Was the world able to be a good place?

Was she able to be good?

And as Maia Black danced and doubted, and as Draco Malfoy stood at his sister's side and looked on - glared on - when needed, though they all doubted him in equal measure, the days and weeks and months rolled by.

The Noble Society for the Promotion of Werewolf-Wizard Relations scaled back its intentions. Even Ginny was brought to see reason, as Maia and Hermione sought to be voices of moderation. Much of the group were inclined to be moderate anyway. Ginny was simply one of those rare firebrands, a true Gryffindor with nothing but courage in her belly.

They stopped declaring Remus' innocence, only that he should be tried fairly.

They banned the wearing of badges with school uniform, as the classroom was a place of learning, not political protest. Though Hermione had said, persuasively, that it was only though education that the world could ever change.

And they found, oddly, that once they become more moderate, more and more students came to meetings. Some, of course, came only to disagree. As their numbers grew, so did the number of opinions. But they still sought to accommodate as many as they could, as long as they could adhere to the principle that werewolves were humans and should be treated as such. So, on Hogsmeade days and weekends, numerous students had glittering badges on their chests.

Winky had been found, though that was another story in and of itself.

But Winky, sadly, was far from anyone's thoughts that night, as the students stood row behind row, waiting to the students from Durmstrang and Beaubatons to arrive.

...

Maia watched, her eyes narrowed, as a tall, slim French girl looked down at the plates and goblets in disgust. Did the girl really think that _she_ could have higher standards that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black?

Draco tapped his finger on the table to get her attention and she turned to him, "Yes, brother?"

He smirked, "I just wanted to remind you that you shouldn't pull that face. Your resemblance to Aunt Cassiopeia becomes too uncanny."

She raised an eyebrow, "And now?"

He shook his head, laughing quietly, "Are we going to seek out Durmstrang, or shall we let them come to us?"

Maia glanced along the table, noting that Daphne and Tracey (or Daphne, at least, as she somehow knew fluent Russian now) were having a rapid conversation with some of the young men from Durmstrang. She bit her bottom lip sharply. She missed them, not that she would ever admit it out loud. "You must do as you see fit, Draco. I shan't be seeking out their company. _They_ must first come to me."

Draco nodded as he put down his goblet, "You have a point. Though Krum..."

"You have my full permission to fawn over Krum to your heart's content, the sight will amuse me greatly."

Draco scowled, "I do _not_ fawn. A Malfoy _never_ fawns. I simply want an autograph."

Maia deigned not to comment and looked towards the other end of the table. Adrian Pucey caught her eye and raised his goblet. She returned the gesture with a smile, though frowned when Teddy Nott winked in her direction as she lowered her hand. He was an odd boy sometimes, with none of Bertram's elegance.

"Are you enjoying the dinner, Blaise? With all your travelling, you ought to know if the House Elves have managed a fair imitation of the foreign cuisine."

Blaise looked up at Maia from his food, silent for a moment. "I suppose it is perfectly adequate."

"I feel that the _religieuse_ was so well made, I might have thought myself in Paris again."

"That is indeed high praise from you." He answered with a polite incline of his head, before turning back to Draco to discuss the lineage of the Durmstrang students.

Maia put down her cutlery carefully, and waited for the rest of the students to finish and the plates to clear. She found herself watching Blaise carefully, and the rest of her year-mates too. Still, they should not be her main concern at this juncture. The Durmstrang students surrounding her ought to take precedence. Aunt Cassiopeia had already written and told her who would be attending, and all the pertinent details regarding them.

And Victor Krum – for all his dirty Quidditch tactics – was the least of her worries when she compared him to, say, Wolfgang von Kernschatten: Grindelwald's great-great nephew with a penchant for bloodsports and a talent for disfiguring curses. Or her own (albeit distant) cousin through Elladora Black – Agrippa Nozdrin – who had been raised in a household whose politics even her Aunt Cassiopeia found extreme and distasteful.

And then, on top of that, there was their esteemed headmaster.

Karkaroff was not a man to be taken lightly. He was such a coward and turncoat that his very presence presented a danger to her and her family. Disaster enveloped him like a second cloak. She wondered how he felt in that moment, between Dumbledore and Moody, two men who must have tried to kill him at one point or another during the war. She turned herself towards the top table, intending to study him, when she started. Her blood ran cold in her veins. She half-moved to pull away from the table, and almost split her goblet, catching it at the last moment.

She looked back again, her heart still beating wildly.

And it was still there, the dark wraith-figure. Only now it looked no longer down at Karkaroff, but directly back at her. She saw the whites of its eyes. And the glint of the axe in its hand.

Disaster may cloak Karkaroff.

But Death walked in his wake.

Maia blinked, and the spectre vanished. She saw now that it was not Death staring at her, but Karkaroff himself, his thin lips twisted. Pausing for a moment, she clenched her stomach, and raised her goblet and inclined her head. She held her hand standing, counting the seconds, until Karkaroff smirked, raised his goblet in turn and drank to her good health, or at least that was what she hoped. She drank too, but did not bother to think on his health. Instead, she counted how many people noticed the small exchange.

Everyone who had any link to the Dark.

And Moody, and Dumbledore.

And Hermione, of course.

She would have said that everything just seemed to be getting worse and worse, if she was not a Black, and was allowed to be pessimistic.

...


	35. Falling

**I do not own Harry Potter**

_**Chapter Thirty Four – Falling**_

On the way back to the Common Room, Maia made a point of entwining her arm tightly through Draco's and pulling him away from the rest of the group. However, he spoke before she even had a chance.

"That was an interesting display with Karkaroff." He said.

Her jaw clenched, "I did not mean for him to catch me looking."

"I thought as much. I'm sure his toast to your good health was as sincere as his contrition before the Wizengamot all those years ago."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. And I've no doubt that he was truly contrite at that point – the chance to get free out of Azkaban can awaken the conscience of any man. And if his toast was insincere, it was better than mine, for I did not waste my thoughts. He's not long for this world, Draco." She paled and shuddered.

Draco squeezed her arm uncomfortably, "I don't know what you've Seen, but you shouldn't speak of it so freely."

She was quiet for a moment, "Perhaps not, but it unsettled me."

They hung back from the last crowd of Slytherins for a moment, and ducked away into a deserted corridor. "What did you see?"

"Death, Draco. And I dream of it too, now. Or at least, I do not dream. I awake and have dreamt nothing. There is only ever darkness, as if we are being swallowed by it."

He made to step away, but kept his grip on her. It was firm now, not harsh, almost soothing. "Dark times are coming, we know that. But we still have each other. We still have the strength of our families. We have far less to fear than others."

"But Karkaroff has bought Death to Hogwarts – who else will he claim while he's here?"

"Not us." Said Draco, pulling himself up, "We are untouchable, you and I. And I don't care the rest of them."

"You know that's not true, not anymore. And don't be flippant. You do care."

"It's all true as long as we make it so, Maia."

...

Maia sat at her desk, trying and failing to write to her aunt. She doubted that any words were safe. And the lid of her inkwell – the darkest jade snake, twisted around on itself as it ate its own tail – spoke not of the eternal strength of her House, of the wisdom she had been taught and was learning still, but instead of death, of an unending cycle in which each generation seemed to seek to kill itself off, again and again and again.

And she was not safe.

She was losing her strength.

She had lost Tracey, and Daphne.

And she was losing Blaise too, she could feel it.

...

After the end of the most recent NSPWWR meeting, Maia pulled Hermione to one side. "May I ask after Winky? Has she settled any better yet?"

Hermione dropped her satchel and sat back down at the desk. She looked only a few moments away from burying her head in her hands and crying. "We've tried, Maia. God knows, we've tried. But I got another letter from Mum this morning saying that she heard her crying herself to sleep, and then crying out in her nightmares later."

Maia shook her head and looked away, out of the widow. "I'm sorry. When I suggested that Winky join your family..."

"No, you were trying to do a good thing. At least we can now say that she is safe and well. She is not wandering all of England... Yet she agreed to the bonding ceremony, and cried throughout. And then she cries that she is a disappointment to us, my family, for her sorrow. But then she cries that she is a disgrace to the House of Crouch... We are at the end of our tether, Maia. We only want her to be happy..."

"Maybe she'll be happy in time. Maybe she just needs more time."

"I'd give her all the time in the world! I know she needs time! But to see someone so sad, for so long... all of the time..."

Maia sat down next to her friend and took her hand in her own, "You wanted to help House Elves. You are doing far more by caring for Winky now, than you ever could petitioning the Ministry." She sighed, "I think our meagre attempts here evidence that."

Hermione sat up, brushing away her tears, "It was you who urged caution, you who said they needed time."

Maia sighed, "Perhaps I was mistaken? Perhaps I was too sure in my own knowledge and power?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, "You doubt yourself? I'm not sure I've ever heard you doubt, actually doubt, yourself. Not aloud." She was paused again, "And are you even talking about the Society?"

Maia sighed, and clasped her hands in front of her. She stared down at them, her gaze resting on the small ring of silver on her left hand. "I can feel it all slipping between my fingers, Hermione, like grains of sand, and I can't snatch them back. And I can't bring myself to stoop, to scrabble on the floor like a beggar to get them back."

"What you're losing, is it worth scrabbling for? Is it worth it?"

Again, she looked away, "I don't know. I don't know what I'm losing, or what I've lost. I feel as if I don't know anything."

Hermione frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. She reached across, pulling Maia back round to face her. "I'm not sure I even understand what you're talking about, Maia."

Maia smiled and gently pulled her hands away. She stood up and shook her skirts out, turning to leave without replying. She was almost jealous – in that brief moment – that Hermione wasn't in a position to understand.

Hermione called her back, "You can't go yet. I want to talk to you about Headmaster Karkaroff."

Maia stopped but did not run round, "What about him?"

"You toasted him."

"So?"

"Why?"

"He caught me looking in his direction. I could not be caught staring, so I made as if I had caught his eye to raise a toast."

There was silence, for a moment, before Hermione spoke again. "I've heard of him, you know." The silence came back again, and Maia tensed. "I read about the war, after the World Cup. I know he was a Death Eater."

Maia bit her lip and squared her shoulders, "What of it? Are you doubting me? Accusing me?"

Again, silence. When she spoke, Hermione's voice was soft. "No, worrying about you. I'm worried you're being pulled into something you can't control, and won't be able to get yourself back out of."

For a heartbeat, she almost refused to answer. She took a deep breath, "You are ahead of yourself, Hermione. It was just one toast."

...


	36. The Goblet of Fire

**I do not own Harry Potter**

_**Chapter Thirty Five – Goblet of Fire**_

For the next week, as it had done for the weeks before, the Common Room seemed to grow quiet each time Maia entered, and louder when she left. They were fools if they deluded themselves that she hadn't noticed. Of course she noticed. She noticed the brooding stares of Avery most of all. And the questioning, curious stares of Flint and the Carrow twins.

Her wand started to feel heavy and sluggish in her hand, or at least, the thought of it weighed heavy and sluggish in her heart.

As she took another turn around the lake, her thoughts went back to the World Cup. Draco had told her then that their people walked a fine line. It grew thinner by the day.

Hermione said she was being pulled into something she couldn't control.

She wasn't being pulled though, she was falling. She was failing.

"Miss. Black, is it right for you to be walking here all alone? You are not spying on my students, ahead of the competition?"

Maia turned at the sound of the thin, reedy voice and dropped into a small, perfunctory curtsey. "Headmaster Karkaroff, I am merely taking the air before I re-join my cousins. And I cannot spy on the competition, they do not present any." She smiled, charmingly, as she had been taught, but was met with only a scowl.

"You will not say that, once the Champions have been decided this evening."

Again, she smiled. "We shall have to wait and see. But I am not fearful yet. The House of Black knows no fear, as you know yourself." She noted that he had not bowed in response to her salutation. He had not even inclined his head.

"Well, I am pleased to find you alone."

A chill ran down her spine. "Have you something you wish to discuss, Headmaster?" She held herself straight and tall. She pushed her chin forward.

Karkaroff took a step closer, leaning over her, and she fought the urge to retreat. She would not retreat, she told herself. She would not give an inch. She would shame her Aunt Cassiopeia, were she to give even an inch. "Yes. I wanted to tell you that I do not know what you are your House are plotting-"

"-the Slytherins, Sir? I am afraid that I cannot tell you what they are _all_ plotting. We often work at cross purpo-"

"I do not speak of that pathetic Hogwarts House, girl." He snarled, "And do not pretend innocence to me. No-one in your House is ever innocent. I don't know who put you up to that toast. I don't know what you're plotting, if you're trying to scare me, punish me, entrap me, test me, lure me out. I know not and I care not. It won't work. I am safe from the Dark Lord. You may still do his bidding, may long for his return, but I have made my way in this world. I have power of my own right. So you can report back to whoever you report to, to whoever you obey, and tell them that they cannot touch me."

She fought to keep her breathing steady. Whatever image he had of her and her House in his head, it scared him. She would not undermine that fear. She would not challenge his assumptions. They might work in her – in _their _– favour...

"I may choose to bear that in mind, Headmaster. I may choose to disregard it. But you really must now excuse me, for I have no wish to be late for the feast."

She turned and walked away, pushing her hands into her fur muff and clutching them together tightly, so that they would not betray her by shaking. As she walked up to the doors, she saw Professor Snape standing in the shadows. His dark eyes glinted, cold and hard, and she carefully looked away from them. She may not be an Occulums, and would never be one, but she knew better than to make his job easier. "What did Headmaster Karkaroff want, Miss. Black?"

She glanced at her muff, pretending to smooth the fur and brush away the water, "He remarked upon the weather, Sir. He feels that winter is drawing in fast."

Professor Snape made no response, but turned and swept away, his long black robe billowing out behind him.

...

The food at the feast held no taste for her. She forced herself to sit up straight, dignified. She forced herself to engage in idle conversation. She forced herself to laugh and smile. She forced herself to sneer when needed. She forced herself to look unconcerned and uncaring.

And most of all, she forced herself to ignore the dark eyes of Igor Karkoroff, which seemed to follow her every movement.

And if anyone were to ask her at a later date what she thought of the feast, the food, the people with whom she talked, she would have to laugh and smile and shrug and avoid the question.

She would never be able to remember.

"Are you hoping for a Slytherin champion?"

She turned to see Adrian Pucey leaning across the table towards her, an easy smile on his face. "Are you doubting that there is anyone in this school more worthy than one of our own?"

He leant back, "You can't trap me, Maia Black. I see what you're about."

"Well, then. Who will it be? Queenie Greengrass? She's Head Girl, and a Slytherin. Or are you hoping to win eternal glory for yourself?"

"I would hope, but I need to be two months older to hope. I couldn't enter and I'm no Weasley fool to try and cross Dumbledore's age line."

She smirked, remembering the twins and their beards. "Queenie Greengrass it is, then."

Adrian raised his goblet in toast, and she drank to it. Further down the table, Queenie shook her head, "You should not get your hopes up, there are plenty of other Slytherins."

Still, she was grinning, her face flushed and hopeful.

A glance around the table showed her that none of the Durmstrang students looked so easy. Their eyes were often hungry, greedy, and drifting in the direction of the goblet of fire more often than not.

Finally, the feast drew to a close, and an un-natural silence fell upon the hall.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said Dumbledore, raising from his great chair, "I believe the time has come for the goblet of fire to speak. A champion will be called from each school. If your name is called, I ask that you stand, take your bow, and make your way to the side room, where you and your fellow champions will await further instructions."

All eyes – not just those of the Durmstrang students – turned to the goblet. Suddenly, with an abrupt burst of flame, a piece of parchment flew into the air and into Dumbldore's hand.

"And the Hogwart's champion is..." Maia and the Slytherins held their breath, half turning away to look at Gemma, "Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff!"

A roar from the other side of the room told them that the Hufflepuff table had exploded into cheers; Maia looked across to see Ernie and Justin leap into the air and hug each other. Cedric stood, blushing, and bowed. He turned to walk to the side room, laughing and shaking his head as if he couldn't quite believe it, and if he wasn't sure if he knew what he was letting himself in for.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maia saw Queenie sit up straighter, toss her golden hair regally, smile thinly and clap her hands with studied politeness.

"Silence! Silence!" said Dumbledore, smiling at the Hufflepuffs. Quiet eventually fell upon the hall, except for the joyous, broken sobbing of Professor Sprout. Both Snape and Karkaroff managed to look equally disgusted with the display.

As soon as the quiet had once again fallen, however, another shot of flame burst forth from the cup. "And the champion for Durmstrang is... Viktor Krum!"

Krum stood, still scowling and bowed briskly. Maia finally looked at him up close as he passed her and saw that without his broom, he rather lost his shine.

When the cheers of the Durmstrang students finally died away, although many of them looked sorely put out, a final shot of flame and a final piece of paper rose into the hall.

"And the champion for Beauxbatons is... Fleur Delacour!"

The cries and applause broke out again, and once the prissy French girl who had insulted Hogwarts had left, Maia was left with the aching sense of disappointment that Slytherin had lost a chance for glory, for honour. It was one thing to win the most House Points. It was quite another to say that the best student in the school was in one's own House.

As the door slammed shut behind Delacour, Dumbledore turned back to address the students.

When another burst of flame, another piece of paper, shot out into the air.

Nobody breathed.

Then Dumbledore spoke, quiet at first, confused. "Harry Potter?"

Draco's eyes instantly met Maia's over the table. _You know?_

_I don't know!_

_What is this?_

_I really don't know!_

Again, Dumbledore's voice. It was louder now, carrying clearly across the hall. "Harry Potter!" Wherever Cousin Harry was, he wasn't moving. "Harry Potter!"

Finally, he stumbled to his feet, pushed by a pale-faced Hermione. Looking lost, and confused, he walked to the side room as the Great Hall remained in absolute, total silence.

...

**A/N – I'm doing a double update because I'm not exactly sure when the next one will be, although it shouldn't be any longer than two weeks... However, to tempt you for the next instalment, I can promise you that there will be a rather dramatic scene in the Slytherin Common Room... : )**


End file.
